Fear, Pain, and Jealousy
by SubtleLullaby74
Summary: I am a coward. I never told her. I don't know what it would feel like to hold her in my arms as something more than we are. I don't know if she loves me. The worst part... is that I might never know. I might lose her before I get the chance to find out.
1. Coward

**Hi, this is my first fanfic, Gale's POV of The Hunger Games. **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Hunger Games or it's characters.  
**

* * *

I am a coward.

For years, I have always looked at Katniss, talked with Katniss, and helped Katniss survive with her family as she helped me. She only smiles in the forest, and… I only smile here too. Every question I have ever had about Katniss and myself had been answered, and there is no mystery about our relationship as friends. We both love and rely on each other as friends, and we both visit each other almost everyday… as friends. There is only one question that I have not answered.

Do I want more than that?

I plan to bring this up today, in some form, to see how she feels before I decide to think about it myself.

This is the reason why I am a coward.

I reach our little private spot among the forest before she does, taking in the fresh, outside air and the smell of berries, faintly tainting the smell of the forest with their sweetness.

Finally, I see her heading in my direction, her face lit up with a small smile, a smile that I am so familiar with. I just look at her for a moment, watching her climb up the small slope as casually as ever, yet beautifully in her own way.

"Hey, Catnip," I say, slightly grinning, my little pet name for her never fails to amuse me. She was so shy when I first met her, I was fourteen and she barely whispered her name to me. I could have sworn she had said Catnip. I dropped it for a while, and just called her Katniss, but when a lynx started following her, looking for food, it became her permanent name.

"Look what I shot." I joke, lifting up a loaf of bakery bread with an arrow stabbed through the middle. I had picked it up at the break of dawn, not just because of the fact that the reaping is today.

"Mm, still warm" She sighs, smelling it with a look of appreciation on her face. "What did it cost you?"

"Just a squirrel. Think the old man was feeling sentimental this morning," I say matter-of-factly. "Even wished me luck."

"Well, we all feel a little closer today, don't we?" she says sarcastically, her face adding a mental eye-roll. I know her face so well, I can always tell when she's lying, or, should I say, almost always.

"Prim left us a cheese," she adds, pulling it out. Her sister is so sweet, and I can't help but internally shiver as I realize that this will be her first day in the bowl of names for the reaping. I hold back my panicked expression, though, Katniss cannot see me weak, no one can, I am the strong one.

"Thank you, Prim. We'll have a real feast." Then, as I try to keep my immense fear from showing, I fall into a ridiculous Capitol accent as I begin mocking them.

"I almost forgot!" I say in a maniacally up-beat voice, "Happy Hunger Games!" I pick a berry off the bushes around us, "and may the odds-" I throw it up above us, toward Katniss, in a high arc, and watch as she catches in her mouth. Watching the way her tongue always licks her lips as she catches it in my peripheral vision. It's hard to say how that small action makes me feel

"-be _ever_ in your favor!" She finishes, with the same messed-up accent.

I pull out my knife and slice the bread, covering the slices with goat cheese and a basil leaf. I watch her pick berries off of the bushes, as I try to gather my thoughts. How can I say this, without making it an awkward conversation? It's hard to say if I… love her (there, I said it) or not. We are obviously more than normal friends, she knows that, and so do I. There has never been any romance between us though, none at all, it just isn't like that.

Or so I'd always thought.

I don't know if I want that or not.

Finally, I summon up all of my courage.

"We could do it, you know," I whisper, not able to use my full voice yet, I had never been more nervous ever before in my life than I am now.

"What?" She asks, apparently oblivious to my lack of voice. I force myself to speak normally.

"Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it," I say, forcing myself to keep my voice off-hand. Of course, I know that this idea would never work; I'm just so desperate to see how she feels about me. I add my next words quickly, so she doesn't think I would ever leave my family.

Because I won't, even though I wish that I could sometimes.

"If we didn't have so many kids," I know that is sounds weird, and it feels weird to say it, but I mean my two brothers and sister, along with both of our mothers, Mrs. Everdeen and Hazel. Then there is Prim as well. We call them the "kids" because they don't fend for themselves. They rely on us to feed them, care for them, and they are always asking for more.

Just like kids.

"I never want to have kids," Katniss says, breaking me out of my reverie.

"I might. If I didn't live here," I say, to quickly to stop the words from pouring out of my mouth. What had made me say that?

I wanted to keep this conversation from getting awkward.

And I had already miserably failed.

"But you do," she says, her voice irritated and snappy.

"Forget it," I say in the same tone, and although I'm slightly angry, I'm relieved that she hadn't heard the double meaning in my words when I said I might want to have kids.

But still, the key word there was "might"

I still have no answer to my question.

I have to stop myself from sighing; she looks slightly horrified by my idea. Did she catch the hidden meaning behind my words after all? Or did she just shudder at the thought of leaving Primrose? It sucks that I can't ask her this, that would make the conversation all the more awkward.

"What do you want to do?" she asks suddenly, turning to face me again, It doesn't take me long to answer, I'm glad for the change of subject.

"Let's fish at the lake. We can leave our poles and gather in the woods. Get something nice for tonight," I say. We _will _celebrate tonight; I refuse to believe that anyone will be picked to die from our families.

We go to the Hob to trade and sell, and then we give up some strawberries that we picked earlier. Soon we come across Madge. She's wearing an expensive white dress for the Reaping, with her hair done up with a ribbon, just looking at her makes me sick.

"Pretty dress," I say, mocking her, she shoots me a glare, and I want her to be mad at me, that spoiled brat.

"Well, if I end up in the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?" Now I'm confused. Who would dress nice for something like that? I would dip my clothes in mud and ruin their precious furniture.

I just go with the decision to answer her like she meant what she had said.

"You won't be going to the Capitol," I say, keeping my hatred form seeping into my voice. I look at her pin, pure gold, enough to feed our family for a month if it were to be sold.

"What can you have?" I continue, "Five entries? I had six when I was just twelve years old." I say, wishing that we where able to wake up every morning with a full belly and not have to risk our lives everyday for food.

"It's not her fault," Katniss says, and I immediately backtrack on my blame of Madge, I cannot afford to have Katniss angry with me again.

"No, it's no one's fault. Just the way it is." I say.

Madge locks her facial expression away from us, obviously, she's so angry that if her expression were visible, Katniss would be angry. She puts the money for the berries that we had just sold to her in Katniss' hands.

"Good luck, Katniss."

"You, too," Katniss replies as the door closes.

This is the last time I will be entered into The Hunger Games and my name will be in that bowl forty-two times. All the same, I am only worried for Katniss.

Did I…?

But then, before I even finish my internal question, my cowardice takes over and I feel my expression change as I switch my mind-set to hatred so I can avoid the other feelings…

I hate Madge, how do people get to lucky? _Why_ do people get so lucky?

My expression doesn't change as we divide what's left, and say our goodbyes.

"See you in the square," Katniss says.

"Wear something pretty," I say, my voice flat, I turn away and head home, my question remains unanswered. As I leave, I'm silently fuming at myself.

No one is more cowardly than me.

* * *

**Please Review! I need positive criticism on my writing, I will love you if you REVIEW!**


	2. Regret and Hopelessness

**Please Review! I need more reviews before I continue onto the next chapter. So until I get reviews, the story ends here! And this is not a good place to stop.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games or any of the dialogue or characters.**

* * *

I don't do much to get ready.

I take a bath and change my clothes before heading to the square. When I told Katniss to wear something pretty, I hadn't been joking, these were the only times that I got to see Katniss _trying _to look attractive, and I won't lie, she looks desirable without even trying.

But this still does not answer my question.

I show up at the square, and as always, all I need to do is follow the other boys' stares to find Katniss. Many times, she brought up in conversation that all of the girls at school would look at me and giggle to each other everyday. This is true. I hear them, and I ignore them. I only have eyes for Katniss… she's my hunting partner.

Or…

Again, I shove myself away from that question.

Although she notices the people that stare at me, she is totally oblivious to the stares that all of the guys keep trained on her. She ignores them out of unawareness; I never talk to her about all of the attention that she gets. There's no need to give any of those guys a chance.

…

I take my place and follow the line of a few of the stares until I realize that the beautiful young-woman in the lovely blue dress is actually Katniss. My mouth falls open into a gaping hole, but I close it before anyone notices. She really can turn heads; she just doesn't notice the heads that she turns. Except for mine… occasionally. I guess that my being around her for so long had trained her senses to know when I was looking at her.

This fact is rather comforting.

It's also the reason that I turn away quickly.

When the clock tolls two, the mayor finally comes onstage. He begins to read immediately, but I tune him out and take the opportunity to stare at Katniss while her attention is elsewhere. The dress is cut low under her neck, something she would never wear due to the inconvenience it proposes with moving, and flows down gracefully to her ankles, showing a pair of matching shoes.

I pull away from looking at her body to look at her face. Her hair is back into its signature single braid, but it's clean and perfect. A few wisps of hair fall into an arc surrounding her face. The blue seems to magnify the beauty in her grey eyes, and the fullness of her lips. She looked amazing, radiant. She has never looked as attractive as she does now, this dress in new to her, and it's the best so far.

I turn away from her at the shrill sounding voice of Effie Trinket as she says "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" Her bright pink hair is off-center and she would look less like a skinny hen wearing makeup and a wig if she just took it off. I go back to looking at Katniss.

She turns though, and looks at me, I can tell that the smile I had worn, just a few seconds ago while I was staring at her, must still have a remnant of itself on my face. Her expression twists with concern as I quickly look away, hopefully she thought I was laughing at Effie.

"Ladies first!"

She reaches into the girls' glass ball and digs deep, and I'm hoping with all of my heart that it's not Katniss.

It can't be Katniss.

It _won't _be Katniss.

And it's not Katniss.

It's her precious sister… Prim.

Fear freezes me right where I am, and for a moment, I loose my hold on the in-different attitude that I had been forcing upon my features. My mask slides off and pain disfigures the fake smirk on my face.

_Why? Why? Why?_ No matter how many times I ask _this_ question, it will never to be answered.

I mentally slap myself and force my features to calm as I watch Prim move forward. Katniss is standing, unmoving, in place, not bothering to clear the horror off of her expression.

Finally, she runs forward, and the crowd makes way for her, parting in the middle, creating a clear path.

"Prim!" I hear her strangled cry rip through the silent air. I know her exact words before she says them, and it's all I can do not to burst into tears.

_Why?_

"Prim!" She calls again, and when Prim is just about to climb the first steps, Katniss reaches her and sweeps her arm around to push Prim behind herself.

"I volunteer!" she says, gasping. "I volunteer as tribute!"

Although I was already positive that she was going to say it, I still gasp in horror. Luckily, it's covered by the other gasps of horror and confusion around me. No one has volunteered for tribute In District 12 for uncountable years.

"Lovely!" Effie Trinket says, as fear grips my entire being until it threatens to burst me open with rage and regret. "But I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um…" She trails off, I hope it's because I'm glaring at her murderously, _she_ deserves to take part in the Hunger Games, _she_ deserves to die, not Katniss.

Anyone but Katniss.

"What does it matter?" says the mayor, pain evident in his clear voice. He must remember all of the times that they've met, trading strawberries, food, fabrics, and he must remember her kindness.

"What does it matter?" He repeats, "Let her come forward."

Prim is doing what I'm forcing myself not to.

She's hysterically screaming and wrapping her arms around Katniss, begging her not to go.

"No, Katniss! No! You can't go!"

"Prim, let go" She says harshly, and I can tell from the faint hurt on her face that she's just trying to look brave. "Let go!"

I instantly walk forward and pry Prim off of her back and whisper

"Up you go, Catnip," and my voice is so close to panic that I know that she notices my battle to keep it steady.

"Please, don't leave me." I add under my breath, but she can't hear me, only Prim looks up at me with tears in her eyes, and I give her a little squeeze of reassurance, wishing someone could reassure me.

I walk her back to her mother and look her in the eye for a moment before heading back to the boys.

"Well, bravo!" Effie gushes, "That's the spirit of the Games!" She sounds pleased, and it's all I can do not to walk up there and push her offstage.

"What's your name?"

I saw her swallow, as if trying to find her voice, "Katniss Everdeen." She says, her voice remarkably steady.

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!"

I refuse to clap, I look at Katniss' mother, catch her eye, and nod, then I put the three middle fingers of my left hand to my lips and hold it out to her, then Mrs. Everdeen does the same, and soon everyone is showing her the gesture of thanks, admiration, and the signal of goodbye to a loved one.

I can tell that Katniss is at the verge of crying, but then the drunkard, Haymitch, comes onstage, and waddles over to congratulate Katniss.

"Look at her. Look at this one!" He slurs throwing an arm around Katniss, I fidget slightly at that.

"I like her! Lots of…" It takes him a while to find a word in his limited vocabulary that fits.

"Spunk!" He finally says, triumph ringing in his voice.

"More than you!" He says, releasing her to get to center stage.

"More than you!" shouts pointing at the camera, and for a moment I feel admiration, he was mocking the Capitol, maybe he isn't so bad after all. I hope for more insults when he opens his mouth to continue, but then he falls offstage, unconscious.

Maybe he is that bad.

I hear a choked sound from Katniss when the cameras are focused on Haymitch as she composes herself and looks calmly into the distance.

"What an exciting day!" Effie says, trying to straighten her wig.

For once in my life, I hope she picks me for male tribute; I want to help Katniss be safe. I want to protect her through the Hunger Games, kill myself at the end, and let Katniss win. She doesn't deserve this fate that the Hunger Games would bring her.

"But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!"

Before I have time to pray that it's me, she's reading the name.

"Peeta Mellark." I see horror flash over Katniss' face and I instantly feel the same way. I know this boy just as well as she does, I have seen him stare at her, and he looks at her with longing, pure longing, she just doesn't know it.

The painful truth is, I know him the _same_ way she does too, and I understand the look of horror on her face, because I was there.

This was the boy with the bread.

When I was thirteen, and she only eleven, I was wandering home, upset at my lack of captured food, our family was starving, we had nothing, but I wasn't giving up.

She was.

I saw her, looking through a garbage can, desperately searching for food. She was as thin as a stick, and a look of pure hopelessness was secured onto her features, I tried my best to help her look. I couldn't resist, she had looked so innocent, so young, I had totally forgotten about my own family's needs.

But I had found nothing as well.

As I searched, I heard a scream from the kitchen.

"GET OUT OF MY LAWN YOU UNDECENT PIECE OF TRASH! I AM SICK AND TIRED OF PEOPLE LIKE YOU DIGGING THROUGH MY GARBAGE BINS!"

I had wanted so much to slap the woman.

The household's mother, I assumed, had started yelling at the girl, and finally she just collapsed, leaning against a tree. I wanted so much to go up and comfort her, but I would only cry if I did.

And I just _don't_ cry.

I would be no help at all anyway; I just kept looking, totally unnoticed by the helpless girl. When the door opened I was prepared to run up and stop the crazy woman from hurting her.

But it was a boy, her age, carrying two blackened loaves of bread.

"Feed it to the pig, you stupid creature! Why not? No one decent will buy burned bread!" She yelled at him.

But the boy had picked off the burned pieces, and had thrown the rest to Katniss. I had faintly noticed the large bruise on his face. I knew right away that he had burnt the bread on purpose for Katniss, to save her.

From then on, even now, I had seen the boy staring at her, even more than the usual guys. They just stare in wanting, he stares in admiration, fascination, curiosity… and love. She never notices the emotions, but unlike the other stares that she gets, she notices his, just as much as she had notices mine, but only in general curiosity as to why he was staring.

That's what I've been telling myself, at least.

Now, the pain increases into nothing but complete agony, I'm so jealous of him, he's going to get to be with her throughout the toughest part of her life, I had always thought that that would be me, comforting her.

But it's not me… it's him.

They shake hands and I see her facial expression: defeated and horrified. She clearly remembers that terrible day too. I frown, he will made it harder for her, but I have to admit that I probably would have made it even harder, taking in the fact that both of our families would die of starvation and one of us would die, after years of working together.

I watch her leave, my entire body numb. I'm to late to ask her how she feels. Too late to wonder how I feel. Too late to save her… too late… too late… those words are all I can hear.


	3. Realization

**Hey! This is kind of an in-between chapter, but it's important! I still need reviews, even if you hate my writing, tell me what to fix!**

**DISCLAIMER: The dialogue about the first time Gale and Katniss meet is on page 110 of the Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. I don't own the characters or book either, all of it is Suzanne's! NO ONE ELSE'S. I hope that I have made my point.**

**Good. I thought so.... **

* * *

My muscles refuse to obey my mind. Half of me wants to run after her, hold her in my arms, and protect her from the terrible people who are taking her away. The other half wants me to cry out in pain, but I can't do that, not here in front of people, not here in front of my family in which I am their only hope for survival. Finally, I forcibly move my legs, and push myself toward my family; my mother has tears streaked down her face. Posy is in her arms, hugging my mother and looking toward the general direction in which Katniss has been taken. Her eyes are foggy with unshed tears, and a frown turns down her lips, she loves Katniss like we all do. Rory and Vick are staring at me, their mouths hanging open in shock, I glare hard at them both until they drop their heads.

I stop in front of my mother and stare her in the eyes.

"I'm going to say goodbye to Katniss. But before I go I need to go back home for a minute." It's a demand, not a question.

Rory and Vick are looking at me, confusion playing in their eyes, but I ignore that.

"Why-" I cut my mother off before she finishes the question.

"I want to check if we have enough food to split with Mrs. Everdeen and Prim, I need to know how much food to hunt for on the way home." I speak with my voice steady as I fight the sting in my throat. The two boys look convinced, but I still see curiosity in my mother's eyes, so I continue.

"Why waste the extra walking? Might as well get it on the way home." I force the words out of my mouth as steadily as possible; the fight to remain calm is becoming more difficult as time passes.

"Okay, we'll wait here, you might want to hurry though, the Capitol should come to pick us up pretty soon."

"I won't be long." I promise, turning to walk away from them.

I battle with my inner-agony as I walk through the crowds of people, trying to push it back long enough to get home. All of them are relieved that none of their loved ones were chosen to die this year. I try to ignore that relief.

If only I was one of them.

Only a few people glance at me now and then, sympathy showing itself in their eyes. I fight to ignore them even harder.

Finally, the crowd of people disappear behind me, all of them heading home. I glance behind me and check if is anyone is heading in my direction, no one is.

I burst into a dead sprint.

When I reach the house, I slam the door behind me; I head strait to the room that I share with my brothers. I lock the door fiercely behind me. Then I walk to the far corner of the room and sit with my back against the wall.

And for the first time in fourteen years, I cry.

I keep the tears to a bare minimum, letting them roll down my cheeks, but I refuse to sob. I will need to hide the remnant my tears will surely leave on my face before I leave, and having puffy red eyes won't help that. I try to convince myself that it's better that Katniss left and not Prim. I can't though. I keep finding myself wishing Prim left for the Games, and even more so that I could volunteer for Katniss. She's the only person outside of my family that I truly love.

Then it hits me.

I've been in love with Katniss ever since I met her. I've been too afraid to say that I do, but I've been saying it ever since we met. 'The only person outside of my family that I truly love.' I'd just been to afraid to admit what that meant before I'd known for a fact that she felt the same.

It's hard to believe that someone is naïve enough to misunderstand himself, but at the same time cowardly enough to _try_ not to understand what he already knows is even worse.

But I guess that's me.

I focus hard and try to remember in full clarity of the first day that we had formally met each other.

I had been getting back to my snares. I stopped behind a tree at the sight of the girl that I had seen about to die under a tree a year ago. I never thought that she would be someone that would risk her life out in the wild; she had looked so weak.

But there she was, carrying a dead squirrel. She was walking up to one of my snares and she was looking at it like she was studying for a test at school, she was reaching her finger up to touch the line…

"That's dangerous." I had said, coming out from behind the tree. She whipped her finger back down to her side and jumped back several feet at the sight of my sudden appearance. I had seen faint recognition cross her face and for a fleeting moment, I thought that she _had_ seen me trying to help her that long year ago. But I quickly remembered that her father had died in the same mine explosion as my father had, and that she must have seen me at least once at school. I had noticed her more than once.

"What's your name?" I'd asked, taking the rabbit out of the snare and adding it to the three that I already carried. The whisper that came through her lips was barely audible, but I knew that the first part sounded like "cat" and the last part definitely had an "n" and an "i" so I guessed at it.

"Well, Catnip, stealing's punishable by death, or hadn't you heard?" I had to force myself not to chuckle; technically, hunting is punishable by death as well.

"Katniss" Her voice had risen, and I had heard the name correctly this time. I remembered being surprised at how beautiful her name was, despite how easily it could be confused with 'Catnip.'

"And I wasn't stealing it. I just wanted to look at your snare. Mine never catch anything."

I had scowled, unconvinced. Was she being modest or something? How else could she have gotten the squirrel?

"So where'd you get the squirrel?"

"I shot it." She said casually, pulling off of her shoulder the bow that I had neglected to notice. I had been watching her face, I was very curious about this girl, how she was so unafraid to wander off into the woods… and to talk with a complete stranger. I almost asked her the question when I realized that it must have been the same reason as mine, to feed her family. I had seen her helpless little sister, and realized that this twelve-year-old girl must the family's only hope for survival. I instantly admired this young girl; I was fascinated; I thought I was the only one capable of that.

I instantly turned my attention to the bow. I'd always wanted to be able to shoot something, have food sooner and whenever I needed it without having to wait.

"Can I see that?" I asked.

She easily gave it to me; I was surprised that she so willingly gave her stuff to a stranger.

"Just remember, stealing's punishable by death." I almost laughed out loud at that, but I didn't. Then I had realized that I was smiling, no one ever made me smile, not my friends or my family.

But she had.

From then on we talked hunting and I exchanged my knowledge of snares for a bow and lessons from her. We became amazing hunting partners and I had been surprised at how long it took for me to get her to smile. I was astonished to find that she was a lot like I was and knew immediately that this was why I had gotten along with her so well.

When she finally did smile, it lit up her face and I realized how beautiful she could be. I knew there was something different about her, something that made her perfect for my friend- more than that. She was just always perfectly in sink with me. And now I realize why. Why only she can make me smile, why I had forgotten my family's needs in order to help her, why I sometimes wish that I can leave my family to run away with her, and why her leaving is the only thing that has made me cry in fourteen years.

I am in love with Katniss Everdeen. I always have been.

My realization is near admittance of what I've always known, but the fact that I have overcome my cowardice surprises me. I quickly stand up and wipe the tears from my eyes, making sure to remove any trace of moisture on my skin. I then look in my mother's mirror and am satisfied to see that I had restrained myself well enough as to keep my eyes from getting red.

I am also relieved to find that my tears hadn't fallen onto my shirt; if I were to change it my mother would be suspicious. I walk out of the house; I need to hurry to get to the bus on time. For the second time today, I need to sprint to get to my destination.

When I finally reach my mother, the bus to the Capitol is already beginning to leave, but my mother is arguing with the bus driver.

"We'll only accept one more person anyway! The bus is almost full. Twelve districts full of people who want to say goodbye to their filthy little children is a lot! If only…" He started mumbling to himself after that.

"Please, just wait a few more moments…" She broke off as she noticed me, running toward her at full speed. I had lied about checking for food, but I know we need more anyway.

"See, there he is! Right over there!" She says, pointing to me. As I walk toward the bus, I decide I should tell her that I'll be gone longer than I would be if I to just come home, I need to stop and set some traps… and hopefully shoot something.

"Yep, we need more." I say as I walk into the bus, she nods, understanding what I had meant.

"What district and what tribute?" He asks gruffly. I turn my attention to the driver.

"Why would you ask what district? I'm here at 12 aren't I?"

"I don't pay attention to where I am kid, I just sit here and the bus goes on by itself, I just choose how long it stops."

"Well, what about everyone else before me, aren't you able to guess where I'm from according to what was said before I showed up?" Had anyone else come to say goodbye to Katniss?

"Look, I'm required to ask, there are cameras here, the Capitol watches every person come in, and when they come on the bus, they need to know where the people are from and who they're seeing, so-"

"District 12, Katniss Everdeen" I cut him off, looking at the small dot in the corner of the top of the bus that I had just noticed. I add a wave and a smile for effect.

When I enter the bus, I find a lone seat in the far back, to avoid having to look at the tearful faces around me. Unfortunately, the closest I can get to that is a seat next to a crying couple. I grit my teeth and glare at the back of the seat in front of me.

"Didn't you come here to say goodbye to a loved one?" the woman asks. I can tell she's not from district twelve from one look at her. The man and woman have brown skin, eyes and hair. My guess is district 11.

"Yes. My friend, Katniss Everdeen."

"You don't say her name like she's only a friend." The woman remarks, looking at me curiously.

"Yes." It's all I say, I train my gaze on her, willing myself not to let the tears form in my eyes.

"Aren't you sad?" Asks the man, who has tears in his eyes just like everyone else on the bus.

"I'm the only man left in both of our families if you don't count my younger brothers, and both of them are only just entering their teen years. I need to be strong, because Katniss needs to win. Of course I'm upset, but she'll only lose hope if she sees me like that." I say, turning my gaze to the man. He wipes the tears out of his eyes, but that does little to dispel the redness around them.

"I'm so sorry." The woman says, looking away from me. I nod in her direction and turn my gaze back to the bus seat in front of me.

All of us are from different districts, and all of us are secretly willing all of the other tributes except our loved ones to die. Somehow though, we all feel sympathy toward the one another. Even the families of the Careers are worried for their children. If only the Games didn't exist. If only the Capitol didn't exist. We might be able to all come together to create a family if that were true, one enormous family that all loved each other and could bring food from hunts to the table easily, every night. There would be no struggle then, no hate in the world.

No one would need to hide their emotions, no one would bleed to death on the inside, and no one would be forced to slowly give themselves up to depression.

* * *

**Click that little button down there... I BEG OF YOU! hehe.... Gale is all sad! Don't make me stop here! **


	4. Failure

**So! Sorry I took so long! I'm working on a FicPress: Watchful Shadows**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the dialogue from "Listen, getting a knife..." through "Katniss, Remember I-" AND I do not own the _The Hunger Games, _that particular person happens to be named Suzanne Collins.

* * *

**

Crying.

The small, pitiful sound is coming from the far corner of the pitch-black room. Once I squint, I see a small child sitting on an armchair, a blanket folded over it snugly. The child is alone, scared, I can hear the fear in it's cry. I try to move toward it, comfort it, but the child starts screaming as I get closer. I bend to pick it up, to try to calm it in my arms, but the baby disappears.

Now, I'm in a living room, and after a minute, I realize that it's the Everdeens' house. Sitting on the ground, messing with the same blanket that the baby had been covered in is a girl, her long, dark hair falling loosely to her shoulders. With a jolt of surprise, I realize that it's a younger version of Katniss. I've never seen her with her hair down before. I'm taking a step forward when the scene changes again.

A two-person bed is sitting in the corner. Mrs. Everdeen is tucked under the covers, staring blankly into space, tears running down her face. Katniss is sitting by the bed, pleading with her to move, crying as she begs, all I want to do is pick up this eleven year old child that I know so well and stop her tears from falling, but I can't, all I can do it stare in horror. I see Primrose sitting on the bed, her ribs showing as she lays her head on her mother's shoulder, she's too young to support herself, and the only one that can is unresponsive.

Finally, I'm visible in the background. I'm in the corner, setting a trap for rabbits. I'm younger, only fourteen. I look happier, stronger in determination than I bet I look now. I see an arrow fly through the bushes and watch my younger self turn in surprise as the sharp arrow-tip pierces the flesh just under the shoulder of a deer that I just now notice. It falls to the ground instantly. Katniss makes her way out of a bush, bow in hand, and turns to look at me, a fierce expression on her face. I stare back at her, surprised that she noticed me, but she turns away just as fast to retrieve the deer. The last thing I see is the smile on my younger self's face when her back is turned.

Now, I'm back in District 12 and I see Katniss in a beautiful wedding dress. She's smiling, but it's not her smile. It's a fake; Katniss doesn't smile like that, it's too full and open… who is she trying to convince? Her arm is through a man's as they walk up an isle, it's a full wedding ceremony. She turns to look at me, and for a moment, the smile disappears and a tear runs down her cheek. She wipes it away quickly before turning back around. The last thing that runs through my mind is that it's not my arm that her arm is through.

It's not me.

I wake up to the soft crashingof falling rain. A hand is shaking my arm furiously, and when I open my eyes I am surprised and ashamed to find tears running down my face. I hastily scrub them away, checking my reflection in the polished metal next to my seat, making sure to remove any last sign of moisture.

I turn to find the District 11 lady; a concerned expression colors her face.

"Sorry I woke you, you seemed so afraid and depressed… you talk in your sleep," she says, a pitiful look on her face. I meet her stare unwaveringly, but I'm so embarrassed it hurts.

"What did I say?" I ask, immediately angry at myself for the slight break in my voice on 'say.'

"Mostly names, Prim… you were frightened. Mrs. Everdeen… you were angry. You said Katniss the most, and your voice was just filled with love. Then you started saying 'It's not me. It has to be me. Why isn't it me?' Then you said Peeta, and you sounded like you wanted to murder him… and cry. Then you did cry and I just had to wake you up…" She trails off, frowning. Apparently I'm rather descriptive… had my brothers heard me before?

I shy away from the thought.

"Katniss is the female tribute from your district." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes," I answer stiffly.

"You really love her." Again, it's a statement not a question. I don't answer. I don't need to.

"I'm very sorry." She says, "You're very brave, I can't believe you can hold back your tears when you feel so strongly about her…"

"How do you know how strongly I feel?"

"I didn't say everything that you did, I would have been talking forever, you got very poetic."

I sigh, too curious. "What did I say? Just a bit of it."

"_Your presence is what moves me forward, what keeps me hanging on to life. Your eyes are the only comfort I know. I've loved you since we've met, your beauty shocking, and your kindness even more unnatural. I never stop staring, but you never notice my obsession. Why have you left me? Why can't I find the courage to say how I feel? I love you more than life, love you more than freedom, I would give up anything for you to feel the same-"_

"Okay, stop, just stop, please." This time my voice is shattered to pieces. I hadn't known how deeply I feel about her till now. Maybe I'm too good at lying if I can hide the depth of my feelings from myself. I know that my face must be scarlet red. Once again, Katniss has pushed a long-gone emotional action from the depths of my heart back to the surface. I have _never_ blushed before. It's an unpleasant feeling, a feeling of vulnerability.

"It's the most romantic thing that I have ever heard. I would have fallen for you immediately if I were your age," she continues. The barest trace of astonishment colors her voice. I don't miss the quick glance at who I assume is her husband.

"Yes, but you're not Katniss and I would _never_ say that to her, it would be the most humiliating thing of my life."

"You started mumbling, but I think that you might've also mentioned something about se-"

"Shut up!" I say rapidly, cutting her off. Oh God. Curse my unprotected sleep talking. I feel my face take on a darker shade of red.

"Well, you _are_ eighteen. I wouldn't expect any different." I look away from her face.

"I _am_ really sorry."

I close my eyes. Falling asleep takes me another hour, but when sleep finally comes, it's deep and dreamless.

Waking up again is a pain. The more I sleep the stiffer my body becomes. The District 11 lady is looking at me curiously.

"Have I said anything?" I ask, dreading the answer.

"No actually, you only mumbled her name a few times, other than that, you were silent." I want to sigh with relief; I'd been embarrassed enough already. Having my mind wander to far in front of all these people could be a disaster if anyone from 12 were to hear me.

"I seem to have finished."

"No. You have silenced yourself. You're too afraid to say how you feel."

"You know this how?"

"As I said before, I didn't tell you everything that you revealed while you let your heart speak for itself."

"Well, if she doesn't feel the same, than what's the point?" I say, miserable. If she loves me like I love her, wouldn't she have said something? Or is she just like me, too cowardly to admit it to herself? I doubt that. She's the bravest person I know. She must only think of me as a friend. The woman stares at me, and for a moment, I'm puzzled as to the reason that I'm telling her all of this. Shouldn't I be talking to my family? Or maybe the reason I'm talking to her is that she isn't family.... Or maybe it's because she already knows half of it anyway.

"The boy tribute to your district is blonde. He saved her. He loves her too." I'm getting used to her refusal to ask questions and her insistence on stating her thoughts. I don't ask her how she knows this. I probably told her.

"Yes." I say bitterly. Turning to face away from her.

"You saved her too, though. You hunt with her… you feed her and her family. You give her hope everyday, don't you?" This time, it's a question. This means I haven't confirmed this, she draws her own conclusions from what she already knows just as much as she states what she's sure of. I don't answer, staring out the dark window, tinted black so that we don't glimpse the scenery outside our district.

How thoughtful of them.

"You're a wonderful young man Gale, I can't wait until she sees that." The woman says finally, turning around, going back to sleep. I look at her for a moment, then do the same, trying to escape the pain that's closing on me every second I think about Katniss. It's not long until I'm sucked back into oblivion.

I wake up to the woman shaking my arm again.

"We're here," she says as I begin blinking the sleep from my eyes. I scowl inwardly. The Capitol. Where they condemn children to their death by putting them in an arena to kill each other.

Disgusting.

I yawn and look over quickly as sunlight suddenly fills the bus, the tinted covers have been lifted and the shining buildings of the Capitol are brightly gleaming, stinging my eyes. We're next to quite a large one… doubtless where they keep the tributes.

We are slowly filed out of the bus into a line to enter the building.

The walk through the building goes by fast, I'm not taking any of it in, I don't care about any of it, I'm only thinking about Katniss.

Her death.

My misery.

Before I know it, we're entering a separate room. The walls have a 'tight' look about them, as if the Capitol is afraid that we'll leave. There are more doors inside this room; these doors are made of magnificent silver. They each have a different label, a separate room for each tribute

But _my_ eyes fly to the last door, the only person I want to see.

District 12- Girl

_My _girl_._

"Please make a line in front of the door you seek." Says an intercom, it's a ringing female voice, infected with the Capitol accent.

I'm last in line. I wait while the others slowly advance in line, until finally, it's my turn to enter.

I open the door, my heart beating quickly, I have to tell her, this might be the last time we meet.

No. I refuse to believe that.

I open my arms as I step in, closing the door behind me. To my relief, she doesn't think twice about the gesture, and runs into my arms. I hold her lightly, but with all of the force I can allow myself. We just stand there for a moment, I breath in her scent and try to memorize how her body feels against mine, locked in an embrace. Finally, I step back, memorizing her face as I speak, I will never forget her. Never. But I won't lose her either.

"Listen," I say. Trying to keep from staring at her. "Getting a knife should be pretty easy, but you've got to get your hands on a bow. That's your best chance." _To live so I don't have to without you._ God, controlling my expression right now is probably one of the hardest things that I've ever done in my life.

"They don't always have bows," she says. Forever on the downside, she really believes she's going to die. I can't help but feel like she's _trying_ to make me hopeless. Even though I know she's only being realistic, I'm getting desperate.

"Then make one," I say, forcing back the desperation in my voice. I know that there's no hope in that either. Katniss might be able to win the stares of every boy in 12, shoot small animals through the eyes with a bow, bring down deer, sing like a goddess, and be kind all at the same time, but virtually _no one_ can make a bow. One of the only people who can though happens to be related to her. Maybe she can manage to make a bow that's lethal at short range, she can move like a ghost through the woods. She could probably sneak up on a squirrel if the need arises. "Even a weak bow is better than no bow at all."

"I don't even know if there'll be wood," Dear God! She _must _be trying to torture me into tears. I can tell she's thinking of the year with nothing but desert in the arena. But that wasn't very "fun" for the people in the Capitol. There's also the year when it was so freezing at night that half of them died of cold. They never make it too hot or to cold without wood for fires.

"There's almost always some wood." I say repeating my thoughts. "Since that year half of them died of cold. Not much entertainment in that." _Being cruel is better than desperate_. I tell myself, repeating the thought over and over in my mind. _She can't see me desperate_.

"Yes, there's usually some," she says. Finally! Some optimism! Now I'm feeling better, if she has even an ounce of confidence in herself, than mine is triple the amount.

"Katniss, it's just hunting. You're the best hunter I know," I'm trying to reassure myself more than her. And being honest helps my confidence. I have never seen anyone handle a bow better than her.

"It's not just hunting. They're armed. They think," she argues. Which is, of course, 100% true. And a statement that no one can argue with. But that shouldn't matter.

"So do you. And you've had more practice. Real practice, you know how to kill."

"Not people." She says, and I hear the somber tone to her voice. This will definitely stay on her conscience. But she has to come back for my sake, if not for her own.

"How different can it be, really?" I say, and I'm disgusted with the grimness in my voice. I must sound so careless. She looks up and meets my eyes. The sorrow in them is so deep that I'm glad for the distraction of the entering Peacekeepers. But instantly horrified when they say my time is up. I haven't told her yet, I haven't….

I'm begging for more time before I can make myself seem decent in front of Katniss. But they refuse and start trying to force me out of the room, and away from her. She grabs my hand, and for a second, I'm distracted by how different that feels now that I know how I feel. But only for a second.

"Don't let them starve!" She cries, not bothering to hide the desperation in _her_ voice, but she doesn't need to.

"I won't! You know I won't!" It's the least I can do when she's gone, take care of her family. I know I have to say it now, before she leaves. Before she gets taken away from me for what might be forever. "Katniss, remember I-" But before I can say the last two words, the only words that really matter, I'm yanked away from her and the door is closed behind me.

"…Love you… I always have… I always will…" I say, my voice as loud as I can make it, desperately trying to push my voice behind the closed door. There's no one left to hear me anyway, except for the Peacekeepers, and they aren't even human.

"Sorry, sound proof doors! Don't want anyone to get extra time!" The first one says cheerfully.

"It's a shame there aren't any cameras though! What a shocking new development this would be! 'The lost love of the Games!' I wish we could say something. But of course we can't. No one listens to the Peacekeepers. They need video evidence." The second one babbles. I lift my arm, my hand clenched into a fist. The second thing that I want most in the world right now is to kill these two pitiless freaks in front of me, slit they're arm with my nail and watch them bleed to death. The only thing I want more is Katniss.

Suddenly, I remember my promise to protect her family, I can't break my last promise to her, that's the worst thing I can do. They would undoubtedly kill me if I laid a hand on either of these two. I slowly lower my hand and stalk out the door, shaking with rage.

* * *

**Seeking Reviews to keep me going! I really need criticism. Critique will improve my writing skills and that is why I'm here!**

**~*C*~*C*~**


	5. Beautiful

What is up people? I'm free! School's out and summer's here! I'll be able to update more often now...

**DISCLAIMER: I own none of the characters or _The Hunger Games _but I _do_ own the dialogue now!**

* * *

Time, inevitably, passes, and though you don't desire it's passing, it proceeds. Time moves on, through the black of night and the bright of day. It moves even faster when you try to ignore it. People ignore time when they are having the most delightful moment of their life, when they're allowed rest after a sleepless night, and when a faint touch of happiness finds it's way into a horrible situation. Their moment is passed by quickly. Time drags on just as regularly, but only when you resent it to do so. When a loved one has died, when grief has engulfed you. When you're hoping for something to happen quickly, time slowly crawls by.

Time is cruel. Time is merciless.

I dread the time when Katniss will enter the arena. I dread the helpless feeling I will have when the gong rings out. But as I dread it, the time passes at a breakneck speed, and the train ride withers down to what feels like a single second of the nothingness that sleep brings me. Before I have the chance to let my mind ease it's rapid pounding, I am told to leave the bus.

Hazelle and my siblings aren't there to greet me when I exit through the doors. Of course, I told them I would hunt afterward. I suppose I will have to begin taking longer hunting trips more regularly now that I don't have Katniss' help.

On my way through the woods, I keep thinking I see Katniss following me. I keep seeing her in the shape of a tree trunk, inside a large berry bush, her hair, blowing with the leaves, her smiling face caused by a trick of the light.

Curse my hopeless infatuation.

But there she is, sitting on a log. With her hair up into it's signature braid, she looks like… like herself, Katniss. No tattoos, no transplants, no unnatural skin coloring, it's just Katniss, without any of the disgusting transfigurations that the Capitol is sure to give her. She doesn't smile, she only looks at me with the most desperate eyes I have ever seen, lips drooped into a permanent, heartbroken frown. She stands up as a sharp crack of branches sounds through the forest. She disappears with the sound, and I find no one but myself sitting on the log.

Dreams. Only dreams. Unreal. Imagined.

Katniss is gone. I still can't accept it.

When I look up, slowly wiping the sleep from my eyes, I see a large animal in the distance; after clearing my vision, I find that it's an impossibly large bear. We rarely ever see bears, never do we see them of this size. I reach for the knife that I've hidden in my shoe, they didn't check us for weapons at the Capitol, we can't afford weapons anyway; we're too poor. We're much, much to poor to afford delicacies such as knives.

And of course, we are. That doesn't stop anyone though.

I get a firm grip on the knife handle and move as close to the creature as I can. I take aim, visualizing a sharp connection of blade and heart. I push all of my strength into my arm and whip the knife forward with all of the force I can muster. It connects below the shoulder and the bear lets out a roar of fury. I dash up a tree, scrambling at the bark to get to the highest point of it that I can without falling out. The bear doesn't follow me though; it's on the ground, desperately trying to remove the knife from its flesh. Clawing at itself, only deepening the wound. Its struggles slowly die off, until it is completely still. I climb cautiously down the tree, trying to reassure myself that it's dead by throwing rocks at it's still figure before I get close enough to remove the knife. He doesn't move.

It was an excellent shot.

The bear is bleeding freely from the puncture wound at its shoulder. I remove the knife with a hard jerk. I take in the monstrosity that is the bear before me and am stuck with a problem.

How much attention would this attract?

There's no question that everyone in 12 would notice me.

If I were to lug this creature across the entire District, I would draw too many eyes, and the leeway the Peacekeepers give us isn't to be tested. I could go in trips… but other creatures would eventually begin to steal my meat, and I need all of it. It's enough to last us for a month, enough to last both of the families through the Games. I know that I should be disgusted, horrified, too horrified even to want to watch the Games. Admittedly though, I want to see Katniss fight, really fight, survive on her own when everyone is counting on her to be massacred. I can't bear to see her die, but I, of course, would like to know who her killer is.

I would hunt him down, and kill him with a smile on my face.

And lets face it, I'm worried not entirely for her safety, though that takes up three fourths of my concern, but also about her allies. Well… to be more specific, Peeta. If she feels half of what he must feel for her… well, I want to know that.

Thinking of Katniss hurts. Thinking of her choosing someone else is misery. Thinking of her dying is unbearable. I decide to try not to think of her at all, to try and forget that she's gone... that she's only busy, that she _will_ come back. An idea comes to my mind and I switch my knife from my left hand to my right and position myself near the top half of the dead bear. I put as much force as I can into the single stroke it takes to behead him. Blood gushes from his neck, but I stay clear of it, taking care not to give my mother a heart attack by coming home covered in blood. If I came home with blood all over my shirt, I'd look like I'd been attacked, I wouldn't be able to hunt any more because I'd scared her and Katniss would...

My mother would go crazy.

I set to work "cleaning" the bear. I keep as much of the meat as I can get, anything edible. As I work, I keep my senses alert for any sudden movements. Animals will undoubtedly be attracted to the smell of fresh meat if they're close enough.

Nothing comes, and I'm satisfied with the amount of edible insides I've been able to extract from the carcass. I begin clearing all of the remains off of the hide of the beast; it will trade for a lot, this hide, and will make a good cover for the large quantity of meat I will be carrying. I know from the start that it will be a lot of weight, but I'll have to manage. I wrap the meat in the rough inside of the hide and pick up the soft outside, feeling the thick hair tickle my skin as I lug the load off to my house.

"Wow! Gale… dear God, what kind of animal has that much meat?" Hazelle gapes at the gargantuan pile of food and the large flat of hide that I drop onto the table. I construct a look of carelessness onto my face, I don't want to startle her too badly, but I don't want to lie to her either.

"Bear. Snuck up on me when I fell asleep." I say, my voice low.

"I'm more than amazed that you took it down but… it could have killed you! I've already lost-" She abruptly stops speaking. When she glances up at me quickly, I see the apology in her eyes. I grip the table to steady myself, dazed by the truth I've tried so hard to forget; she catches the movement and rushes over to take me into her arms. I don't return the embrace, I'm to busy trying to think of anything other than…

Anything other than what we've lost.

Hazelle has always loved… her. Loved her like her own child. It's impossible not to. She has been with us for so long that we consider her part of our family. I'm not the only one who loves her. My brothers adore her, too much for my liking. My mother loves her. I love her, but not in the way that she loves me, more than that. She doesn't return the feeling.

I step out of my mother's embrace and take half of the meat and the entire hide. I don't meet her eyes.

"Imagine what she would have said." I know she means Katniss.

It's impossible not to think of her, with everyone around me unable to stop mentioning her, so I give up. I haven't gotten anywhere with trying to fool myself anyway.

Katniss would be so angry that I had risked my life....

I stop mid-thought. What _would_ she think? Would she be concerned for me? Astonished into speechlessness, able to do nothing but gape at me in utter bewilderment and wonder? Would she say I'd been brave? I find myself gratified at the possibility of that. She would praise me.

It's plain immaturity.

I'm acting like a ten year old with a silly crush. Like a boy who desperately wants attention from the girl he's obsessed with.

I can't suppress a sigh.

"Do whatever you want with the meat, this should be enough food for both us and the Everdeens for the entire Games. I'm going to trade this half of it for some other things." I walk out the door without a backward glance.

I go to Greasy Sae to trade the meat. Apparently it's very expensive. I get three loaves of bread and some oil, oats, two dozen eggs, and a medium sized chicken for half of what I've taken with me. I use the rest of the meat to but a new pair of shoes for Rory and a sweater for Vick, and then I buy some beef, and some other less delicious meat, but in larger quantity, with the hide.

It's definitely enough to last us through the Games.

Before I know it, the opening ceremonies are about to start. As tradition follows, my family always goes to the Everdeen's house to watch the Games. The company of each other, knowing that at least we're safe, helps us cope with the sadness that two more people from our District are being killed.

That does not apply to this year. We are not all safe, the best of us is gone.

We go anyway, to comfort Mrs. Everdeen and Prim, because they're in need of it. When we get there, Katniss' mother has tear streaks stained across her cheeks, and Prim is still crying. I can tell she's trying to hold it back; I can hear the sniffle and whine that communicates her struggle not to sob. I nod my greeting, my eyes only meeting hers for an instant. I quickly turn away, seeing her cry only makes it harder for me not to.

I'm eighteen, I shouldn't cry. Not in front of these people, not in this situation. Not ever.

We look at each other as the seconds tick by, silently comforting each other without the use of verbal communication, until finally, the television clicks on by itself, and the anthem plays in the background as the chariots ride out. I only pay attention to see District one… and then I'm distracted.

I can't imagine what they've done to Katniss, there are much to many possibilities. A coal miner's outfit, maybe? Dressed as a giant lump of coal? What have they thought up to show off our District? It will most likely be the usual, nothing big. She wouldn't be naked and covered in nothing but dust like they did three years back…

Then the final chariot rolls out onto the square.

I can't comprehend my own thoughts.

Fire. Fire is flowing around her dark hair, which is brushed smooth; flickering on a cape that leaves a trail of bright flame. The jet-black horses, striding beautifully before her, drawing attention to their chariot. Minimal makeup confirms that it's her, but it's hard to believe. She doesn't need any more makeup than what she has, it would only ruin her perfection. The fire illuminates her face, her eyes, showing brilliantly in the twilight, the black jumpsuit catching every curve of her body.

Beauty in its purest form.

I hear Prim suck in a ragged breath and cling to her mother, who is gaping. Hazelle lets out a quick mass of air that's more than a gasp. I hear myself catch my breath, and in that moment, everything rushes to the surface. My face contorts itself in pain, longing, suffering, rage, and horrible defeat. I almost let out a groan of agony, having her so far away, so beautiful, and gone forever. _Forever._

I remember where I am in a sudden, unexpected flash of clarity and snap back into focus. It's the feeling of eyes on my face. I force a mask of indifference over my features, and let out a quiet breath, forcing myself to breath with an even pace. I quickly glance to the other people in the room, my two brothers have wide grins on their faces, staring at the screen, only pausing to catch the stare of the other and throw a quick punch before turning back. They hadn't noticed. Mrs. Everdeen and Hazelle have their eyes glued to the screen, astonishment and overwhelmed awe on their faces.

Prim. She's looking at me, the more horrified, pitiful, concerned, pained expression on her face. _She_ saw my lapse in control. I meet her eyes, but she quickly turns back to the screen.

I let it go for now, I'll deal with her later. Something catches my eye. Peeta is holding her hand. He's handsome too. I don't miss the occasional glance at her face, her body, their clasped hands. He's no match for her stunning extravagance, but he's very noticeable. I feel a frown slide onto my face and jealousy burn in my eyes; I once again, push it back as quickly as I can. Katniss has barely noticed him. She's doing it because she's been told to.

At least that's what I'm trying to convince myself of.

Katniss' face is shocked for a second, but then she seems to remember something important and plasters a beautiful smile onto her face, I catch my breath again. I've always adored her smile; combined with what they've done to her, she's irresistible. I don't know what I would have done if she was here, looking like that. Peeta's name dies out among the shouting crowd, and most of them are shouting Katniss' name now, throwing her roses. She gains confidence and starts blowing kisses, hands reach up to grab them as if they're tangible. How I wish they were mine.

I'm shaking with longing for Katniss to be beside me and rage at Peeta for having that privilege by the time her chariot comes to a halt. The president starts to speak but I'm not listening, the cameras are trained on Katniss and Peeta, mostly Katniss. I need to leave before I make anything obvious.

"I need to use the restroom, please excuse me." I force my voice steady and it takes all of my energy to stop shaking. I stand and walk away; nobody pays me attention as I leave.

I sit down on Katniss' bed, letting my breath come ragged, sparing myself the effort of forcing it steady. I sit there until I'm no longer shaking. A tear falls from my eye into my hand without my permission. My head is bent, so it doesn't leave a trail down my face. I stare at it, furious at the Capitol, at the Games, at myself.

That's when Prim opens the door and steps inside.

She seems unsurprised so see me sitting here, and I realize how I must look, sitting on Katniss' bed. I wipe the tear hastily onto my pant leg, but it leaves a slightly darker speck on my light pants. Prim's eyes widen as she sees the simple mark of moisture. She stares at me, and I look back, a little late on clearing the look in my eyes and easing my still irregular breathing.

She catches that too.

The surprise on her face is so absolute that I know it will be hard to convince her against the theory that I know she has. I know it will be hard, mostly because she's right. I try to scowl but it turns into a broken frown. She slowly exits the room. Leaving me alone.

I sit there for a while before finally joining my family again. They're absorbed in an overly excited conversation, talking about Katniss. Prim is just as animated, but when I walk in, she shoots me a sympathetic look before placing the smile back onto her face and continuing to talk.

It will be difficult to lie to her.

At least she seems to have kept my secret so far.

* * *

**Um... Sorry about the rant about how time is so cruel, evil, and merciless in the beginning... I... uh... yeah. Well, you have to agree with it in some circumstances! I wasn't particularly happy that day and I needed something to scream about.**

**Ha! The omniscient Prim! OOOH! Check out the display of my VAST vocabulary! Omniscient... "All knowing" **

**...so... REVIEW! Criticism! Tell me if I should give up! Tell me if I should keep going! I need your HONEST opinion!**

**~*C*~*C*~ **


	6. Revealed

**Yeah! Go LEGENDS! The soccer team I just guest played for won gold at the Disney tournament! We are the Legends, mighty, mighty legends! If you don't believe us, try and beat us! To bad I only guest played, I liked that team.**

**But that's beside the point. So... sorry for the LONG delay (Only people who know me would get that bad pun.) but I finally updated!**

**Disclaimer: Own the story, I do not. Own the Yoda voice, I do not.**

* * *

The chattering voices of the two families die down as the camera turns to the announcers. The youngest, nineteen by my estimate, is smiling, not in a pleasant way, in a possessive way. I struggle to breath steadily, trying so hard that I fear I might start breathing harder from exhaustion.

"I don't know about you, but I couldn't keep my eyes off of Mrs. Fire over there. Talk about sexy."

I clench my teeth.

Another of the announcers nods his agreement.

"Katniss, the girl who was on fire."

"Cinna's a genius, our new stylist has beautified District 12, imagine what he could have done to 1!"

"He did a great job with the boy tribute too, word is he's single," a female announcer agrees, "But I do believe that Peeta's not interested in anyone but Katniss. He had his eyes all over her."

"I don't blame him, I couldn't focus on anything other that girl. I might have to go find her…" The nineteen year old murmurs to himself, the smile never leaving his lips.

"I'll forget you said that." Another female announcer to his direct right grumbles, no trace of humor in her voice.

"'If you put enough pressure on coal, it turns to pearls!' Effie Trinket's wording, but I have to agree with her statement, 12 stole the spotlight!"

The announcers, rather unwillingly, move on to talk about the other Districts, but the nineteen year old is still gazing toward the door that the tributes had exited the stage through.

"We don't have to watch anymore, it's not required right now." Mrs. Everdeen says, turning off the television. Everyone in the room jumps back into rapid conversation, but I want to watch, the announcer's observation about Peeta hadn't failed to catch my attention.

"I'm going home," I say, heading for the door, Hazelle looks my way and nods once before diving back into the chatter, which is lowering to a whisper.

"She was so beautiful, I can't help but be afraid for you. Your daughter must have attracted the attention of every boy throughout the whole of Panem."

"I'm so proud to be her mother. You know, I think you're right. And I have to wonder… I heard Gale suck in his breath when she came out and-"

I shut the door behind me.

At least I had the ability to keep my face hidden from _them_. They can only guess, they're not certain of anything, and I can mislead them from their theory… I hope. Part of me is relieved that if anyone saw me it's Prim, she's young, gullible.

When I get home, I turn on the television as quickly as I can. They always count down from District 12 to 1 as they talk about the history, strengths, weaknesses, and other meaningless facts about the tributes. Of course, this is not shown to the competitors.

When the TV clicks on, they're in the middle of Katniss' evaluation.

"… Has lived in the Seam her entire life, she has a little sister that she holds dear to her heart. She would give up anything to keep her safe-" A woman reading notecards begins.

"I'll say! Did you hear the desperate gasp in her voice when Primrose's name was called at the reaping?" Another interrupts.

"Then she volunteered! No one ever comes back from Twelve."

The announcers are flashing pictures of the subject as they talk about it on a screen behind them. They replay the reaping from when they call Prim's name to when I walk up to pry her off of Katniss. They pause it there.

"Now, who is this young man?"

"Yeah, I've been wondering… they look related, but... Cherrie?" The announcer turns to a small woman with purple skin and golden eyebrows, she had been the first to speak when I turned on the TV; she picks up some cards and starts reading off of them.

"It says here that they spend most of their time together, they've known each other since Katniss was only eleven and Gale, that's his name, was around thirteen." They show a picture of my face and the announcers turn around to look at it.

"He's a reasonable age for her and, I'm not going to lie, has a face worthy of the Katniss we saw at the ceremony." Someone says, studying the screen. I'm suddenly very glad that everybody stopped watching at the Everdeen's house.

"Everyone looks the same in the Seam, they might not be related at all… lets finish the video."

The video continues and my voice is magnified above the others.

"Up you go, Catnip." I cringe at how I'm staring at her, watching her go, the indifference I had carefully molded into my expression looks too forced. Then my lips move, and I remember my silent plea. They pause the video.

"Awww! That's so cute! He's got a pet name for her! Katniss. Catnip. I like it. I'm not sure, but I think that there may be something there… on his side at least."

They're already guessing right? Apparently, I don't give them enough credit.

"Did you see his lips move at the end, though?" Another points out. I flinch.

"Yeah, I think I did… lets rewind this… turn up the volume at the end." Another agrees. The video races backward five seconds and you can hear my voice a little better.

"Ple… do… lea…e"

"Again. Louder."

"Please… don… lea… me"

"Please… don't… leave… me!" The female announcer suddenly squeaks. I let out a ragged breath. _No one watches this anyway; they only play it to take up space. _My miserable attempt at self-reassurance falls flatter than I expect it to.

"I think you might be right. I think he's head over heels in love-"

"Or related to her." I'm very grateful for the nineteen year old now. Even if he makes me angry at the way he…_studies_ her, he's desperate enough to try and make himself believe that we're related. The announcers don't believe a word of it, though.

"I doubt it, but do you remember the opening ceremony? Did you see _Peeta's_ eyes on her?" A different announcer that I hadn't noticed before chimes in, "Play the ceremony and magnify everything Peeta says… lets see if he's talking to himself too." He chuckles as he finishes his sentence.

They replay the ceremony and I don't hide my reaction this time because I don't need to, I don't need to waste the energy, the effort. At least it's not as bad as the first time I saw her, I'm calmer this time around. But I hear Peeta loud and clear when he watches her smile for the first time.

"Wow." He whispers. The desperate wanting in his voice catches me off guard, I unconsciously bare my teeth. No, he can't take her. She's _mine, _she's supposed to be _my_ girl, not his.

"Ha! Told you!" The one who spoke last cuts in. It's the only word that Peeta says, but he turns to stare at her often throughout the entire event, the same longing look on his face.

"Oh dear, this is an exciting competition!" A woman says, grinning.

I can't help but hope that Katniss is the one to kill Peeta. That she doesn't feel for him at all, that she's able to kill him without hesitation.

"I just can't imagine the pain that Gale must be feeling right now, knowing that Peeta might be in love Katniss, and to think that she can't watch this and realize _Gale's_ feelings for her-"

The door knob starts to turn and I rush to turn off the Television.

Prim walks through the door.

I have no doubt in my mind that she'd been listening through the door. The look on her face is enough proof of that. I wipe my face clean of any emotion; I meet her stare evenly as I make my way back to the couch.

It must have seemed odd, seeing me dive for the off button on the television. When she walks over to sit next to me, and I can tell that this is going to be a long, awkward night.

"The Capitol seems to have some… theories… that I've been thinking about."

I don't answer. had she been watching when they replayed Katniss coming onto the stage? I hadn't made a move to hide anything, my breathing had hiked up and caught, and I could have sworn a tear or two rolled down my cheek. I was shaking with my head in my hands, the effort of holding back sobs causing my body to tremble. I had even let out the groan of agony that I held back at the Everdeen's house. I hadn't thought that I would need to waste the energy, keeping myself steady. Even half of the reaction that I would have had the first time I saw her is more than enough to… surprise someone. Apparently I should have put the extra effort into keeping my reactions to myself.

Complete and utter _failure._

"The first time I really thought about it was at the reaping, I heard what you said, but anyone would say that, she's your only friend."

I'm struggling with myself now; the word _friend_ has more of an affect than is should have on me. I can't help my head drooping down a bit and my hand reaching up to cover my eyes. I relaxed out of the position as fast as I can. I still see her eyes flicker onto me and then back away.

"Then, you were the last one in line when we went to say… goodbye," her voice breaks. "And you looked miserable, like you were… in pain." I hadn't paid any attention to them, hadn't noticed them on the bus or at the Capitol. I was so concentrated on Katniss and my own misery that I had neglected to notice her family, they were there with me the whole time. Thank the Lord they left before my break down in front of the Peacekeepers.

"And when Katniss rode out in the opening ceremonies, I was watching your reaction… it… it was… the saddest thing I have ever seen in my life… you were… suffering…"

I feel my head swing back and forth with the effort of clearing away the memory.

"But then you switched back into a normal expression, like nothing ever happened. You checked the room to see if anyone saw you… and I did. I can understand surprise from you but that was… horrible… seeing her like that… it _hurt_ you. I hadn't believed it was possible to make her even prettier than she already was, and… I guess you didn't either."

I didn't. But _prettier_ doesn't cover half of it. I thought she was beautiful the first time I really looked at her, even starving, at the verge of dying, covered in mud, she was beautiful.

"And then, before I walked in to see you just now, and I heard what they said… and I heard you… your face was… your entire reaction was…" she doesn't finish the sentence. I'm not surprised she can't find words to describe it.

"And now I'm sitting here, and I can see that what I'm saying is hurting you. I…" she trails off, caught up in thought.

"Gale, are you in love with my sister?" she asks, point-blank.

I put on the best innocent, smooth expression I can pull off in my current state of mind.

"No. Prim, I love Katniss like family, just like I love you and your mother like family. Katniss was just a little more than that. She had been my friend, my _only _friend, since I was thirteen, and now, at eighteen years old, she still is. And I miss her Prim, I miss her a lot." All lies, well, understatements so severe that they might as well be. They're not even very reasonable understatements from what she's seen of my expressions. But it's all I have.

She studies my face, her eyes probing for any lapses in my mask.

"You're good at that."

"At what?"

"Controlling your expression. You must have been practicing that control for a while now. It makes me wonder how long you've been in love with her."

God, she's stubborn

"I never said I was in love with her. Prim, she's my friend."

"I know. I can tell you hate that though, that you want more. The very fact that you're hiding your feelings is proof. And you cried! Gale you _don't_ cry, ever! You didn't cry when your dad died! Now Katniss is gone and you're still considered as her _friend_ and I know that you noticed Peeta staring at her. You're head to toe in fear, pain, and jealousy, Gale, the only emotions that I can imagine would make you cry. Love does that to a person."

She's good. Maybe, being a girl, it's easier for her to… sense… these things about me.

"Did you tell her? When you went to say goodbye? Did you tell her that you're in love with her? She would feel the same way."

The burst of hope that floods through my veins makes it harder to stay calm and collected.

"No."

"What do you mean, no? That you didn't tell her or that she doesn't love you back? Because she would love you back Gale! It's impossible for her not to!"

"Both." When my voice cracks, shattering the simple word to pieces, I growl at myself for the lapse in my voice control. It's a quick, frustrated sound, and it only makes it worse. I mentally curse my carelessness and fall back into silence.

Her eyes widen at my answer. Having her theory proved is more than she had expected. My attempts at dissuasion are desperate and meaningless now.

"Only because I think of her as a friend and she does too…" I trail off, hopeless.

"Why won't you just admit it, Gale?"

"I have nothing to admit. I'm not in love with her and she's not in love with me. Telling her these lies would just make her angry with me…" I don't notice the hint desperation that creeps into my voice as I try to keep her quiet until I'm already finished with my sentence.

Ugh. Why am I messing up my usually perfect composure _now?_

"Oh, _that's _why. I won't tell her then. Fine. But it's just a waste of your own happiness." Hearing her tell me that she won't say anything has me relaxing in my seat. She notices the loosening of my tight muscles, a smug smile dancing onto her face, but I don't care, there isn't a reason too. She knows now, anyway; there's nothing I can do about it.

But it's hard to trust a twelve year old.

"How long?"

"What?"

"How long have you bee in love with her?" she clarifies.

I shoot her a glare.

She doesn't flinch.

"Since you met her? When you were only thirteen and she was only eleven?"

"How…? You were only seven! It's impossible that you-" I stop the flow of words through my mouth mid-sentence and verbally curse through my teeth. She was only guessing, and I just approved her theory.

She looks at me for only a moment before a giggle bursts through her lips. I roll my eyes and grimace, but that only makes her laugh harder.

"What happened to your… façade of denial?" Her laugh intensifies at her words.

"Stop laughing." I can't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry! It's cute! The "Oh so stoic" Gale who doesn't _feel_ tenderness _or_ love... falls for my sister! When he was only thirteen!" _Cute?_ _She_ is cute. My pain is not _cute._

"Shut up. _You're_ only twelve."

"But I'm not unfeeling like you, so it's not as funny that I have my eye on your-" She slaps her hand over her mouth so fast that it startles me. I don't understand her hasty action until I think about her words for a minute. I raise my eyebrow.

"Stop that, stupid, you're making me jealous!"

My other eyebrow rises.

"I've always wanted to be able to do that!" She complains.

"What, this?" I switch between lifting my right eyebrow to lifting my left. She falls into hysterical laughter again.

I, on the other hand, have forgotten what it feels like to be happy. She suddenly halts in her laugher and leers at me.

"That too! You never smile! Or laugh! Only with your mother or brothers, but it doesn't seem real… almost as if you're not really amused. Something tells me Katniss makes you smile in the forest, even laugh."

I immediately avert my eyes.

"I've always wondered why you always turn down the multiple girls that ask you out. I guess I know why now. You were waiting for my sister."

I shrug.

"Have you ever thought about all of the other guys that stare at her? Besides you, of course, but did you ever realize that she rejects all of them to?"

"They ask her?" I feel my teeth snap shut.

"All the time, she complains about it quite a bit. Have you ever taken into consideration that _she_ was waiting for _you_?"

I suck in a sharp breath at the possibility.

"Especially that other tribute…" she adds as an afterthought, more to herself than to me.

"I hate that stupid baker's son."

"I have a feeling that I don't need to ask why." She says, falling back onto the couch, "This is kind of awkward."

"What? That you're in love with my little brother?"

"That too. I was thinking about how _you're_ in love with my big sister." In that moment, I see an opportunity.

"I won't tell my brothers- and I will tell _both _of them if it comes to that- that you're in love with one of them, if you don't tell Katniss that…" I can't say it out loud; finally admitting to myself that I'm desperately in love is one thing, telling someone else is another.

"Deal!" She says without hesitation, not even seeming to realize my refusal to say the rest of my sentence.

We shake hands.

She seems to drift off into her own thoughts for a while. It takes me by surprise when she starts crying. A few tears fall at first, but then it quickly grows to sobbing. She falls against me, crying onto my shoulder.

"Gale… I don't…. want her to…die," She sobs, her breathing hard and uneven.

"I know. Trust me Prim, I know." I catch the tear that betrays me with my finger and wipe it on the couch.

She cries and cries, and, because I understand her pain, I let my arm rest across her shoulders, doing all that I can to comfort this poor child that has lost her only sibling.

Later in the night, her mother comes to take her home, thanking me for keeping her company and comforting her. She eyes me a bit before she leaves, but I pretend not to notice as I wipe away the tears from my shirt. She may have her suspicions about my feelings for Katniss, but there is no way that she can know that some of the tears on my shoulder are my own.

* * *

**Yeah, Prim! Her awesomeness broke through Gale's shield of stoicness. I like that word... stoic... it's fun to say. But ANYWAY, I need criticism and anything I deserve, whether it be good or bad. If you HATE it... well, tell me why. If you LOVE it... well, tell me why. If you read it, but don't think it's worth a review... well, review anyway and tell me why!**

**Meep.**

**~*C*~*C*~**


	7. Unbelievable

**_Don't judge me! _I am NOT Emo, Suicidal, Cannibalistic, Mental, a serial killer, insane or any other notions you may get about me after reading the first paragraph! This is where the rated T comes in people! I was having writer's block and needed something to get the mind juices flowing... and it worked, let me tell ya! I was on a roll with that! Ah... Gale is so awesome. His imagination can really go places... wow! Just like mine! We have sooo much in common!**

**Sorry, I really wanted to have a blond moment. I _am_** blonde** so... well, I have an excuse.**

**My dog twitches in her sleep.**

_**Disclaimer:**_ **Although I do own a twitching dog and a mentally unstable elderly cat, I do not own _The Hunger Games_** **or it's characters.**

**NOW READ!** **  
**

* * *

I can't tear my eyes from the screen as a six-foot tall Career Tribute holds his spiked mace above a cowering Katniss, cornered by a rock ledge. He swings downward, and the mace falls with the sickening sound of tearing flesh onto her face, shredding her skin into thick bloody ribbons. Katniss struggles away, her disintegrated facial features twisted into a deformity of pain. She climbs into a tree, desperate for the protection, but another Career is waiting for her. He reaches for her arm and twists it into an awkward angle, a sickening crack echoing through the empty space. She falls, landing before yet another bloodthirsty teenager, who stabs her stomach, a smile proving insanity spreading across his wild face as the blood flows freely from the wound. Her screams of agony are draining into weakened whimpers as she pulls herself forward, forced to use her mangled arm. Wolves, savage and snarling in their crazed hunger for human flesh surround her when she reaches the forest, ignoring the others in order to retrieve the easier prey. They drag her roughly by the leg; allowing thick streams of blood to trickle down her thigh. Her whimpers strengthen into agonized sobs as another Tribute rips her from the wolf's grasp, pulling at it's grip, leaving inch deep cuts in her leg as he yanks her away like a rag doll. He picks her up by the neck and her arms fly uselessly to her throat. He uses his other hand to forcibly dig through her chest like a spear as her eyes fly wide in shock and a horrible scream escapes her lips. His hand pulls back holding a bloodied heart, still desperately pumping as it's owner falls to the ground, convulsing. He shoves the vital organ of her now dead body into his jaws, and snaps his teeth together, smiling with mad triumph as the blood explodes from the pulsing object, coloring the sky a scarlet red.

I wake up screaming, the sound piercing the quiet night. I silence myself quickly, the yell of desperate terror cutting off after no more than a second, I can't allow myself attracting to much attention from the sleeping District. I quickly scramble from the bed and over to our single window. I look out anxiously but I calm after a few seconds of silence, no detection of rustles from people roused out of their sleep. I sigh heavily, only to realize that my breathing is still hard and uneven, and as I realize the quiver in my breath, I feel the shiver raking my spine over and over. Only then do I realize my silent sobbing. I try to fall back into unconsciousness, but the picture of the insane Tribute, with Katniss' heart between his teeth, flashes back into my view every time I make an effort to close my eyelids. Rory and Vick are up and breathing hard, staring at me with startled eyes. I'm suddenly very thankful of the darkness; they can't see my tears, my face, or my constant shivering and heaving chest caused by the noiseless sobs.

"Sorry, guys," I say, willing my voice into sheepishness. "The knife I keep under my pillow scratched me across the cheek when I turned around in my sleep, startled me to death." I say, forcing a laugh. They look at each other, at least I think they do, all I can see is a dark outline of them. I can tell they don't believe me.

"Whatever," says Rory.

"We have some theories that would say otherwise." Vick continues.

Doesn't _everybody_?

"And what's that?" I say, coloring my voice with as much sarcasm as I can force through my teeth.

"Well… you're eighteen, she's sixteen." Vick says slowly.

"You've known her for five years, and you treat each other like _great_ friends. You're also of the opposite gender…." Rory adds.

"And, well, you've rejected almost every girl within the appropriate age range to have a relationship with." Vick supplies.

"Except Katniss," Rory says.

"The one girl who hasn't asked you." Vick finishes, his words cutting deeply into me even though I know they're true.

"Well, don't you think that _I_ would have asked _her_ to date _me_ if I wanted more than her friendship? I'm not a coward. If I was in love with her don't you think I would have said something?" I say, and my words are almost funny, I'm practically mocking myself. I pause a moment, trying to make this seem real, before continuing.

"What did you think I was screaming about?" I ask, as if it's an after thought.

"Um… the love of your life entered into the Hunger Games, getting killed? Possibly the hottest girl in all of the 12 Districts getting murdered before you got a chance to say how you feel?" Rory answers, and I can hear the snicker in his voice.

"It's a shame they took Katniss, she was pretty. At least I got a good look at her before they take her into the arena. She was smoldering hot in that costume, eh?" Vick says. A bark of laughter ends his sentence. I feel my hand twitch with the desire to smack both of them. It takes me a while to realize that I'm being too possessive for my own good. They're my brothers, both to young for Katniss. As I try to think about other things, my thoughts wander to Prim. I feel a pang of pity for her, but I'm certainly not telling her that whomever she "has her eye on" is crushing on her sister.

"Yes, they did a good job, I'm not going to deny that, but she's my friend, nothing more." I wonder if there will ever be a time when those words seize to hurt me, if there will ever be a day when I can accept the truth of them.

"At least admit that she's hot," Rory says. I roll my eyes, though I know they can't see me.

"Go back to sleep." I groan, faking drowsiness, as I fall back down onto my pillow. They grumble in complaint, but do as I say. When I put my head on the pillow, I realize it's moist, and I know it's not sweat. Not only do I talk in my sleep, but an unstoppable flow of tears fall as well.

The rest of my night is constantly invaded with the unwelcome images of thousands of ways for Katniss to die. I'm relieved when the sun casts it's pure light through our single window. It had been pitch-black, a new moon, usually an inconvenience for late night working, but it left no light for my brothers to see by, and for that, I'm thankful.

But I have no knife scar on my face.

Without giving myself time to decide against it, I grab the knife that I always keep under my pillow and slash it from the high point of my cheek to my jaw line. I wince, the shallow piercing of my skin burning.

I walk into the kitchen and grab a rag to dry off the blood from my knife, but on second-thought I take it to my room. I look at my brothers, still sleeping. Their faces seem so peaceful in slumber, without the constant smirking or grimacing, you can almost believe they're nice little angels.

Right.

I grab the rag and make as much noise as I can while cleaning a knife. I start tapping my foot to a sweet little song I had heard Katniss-

I change my rhythm to meaningless tapping.

Eventually the boys crack open their eyes. I look over at them and I see Vick suck in a quick breath.

"Oooh, that looks like it stings." Rory, hearing Vick's voice, sits up and looks over at me.

"Aw man, I totally thought you were covering for yourself with that excuse. But I suppose you could have always-"

"Would I really _cut_ myself, just to prove a point to you? Have I ever gone that far before?" I say doubtfully, sometimes the truth is so unbelievable that it's best to outright and say it. Only somebody so depressed they've been pushed to insanity would cut him or herself as punishment.

Luckily, that's not exactly the reason.

Sadly, it's pretty close.

Vick and Rory shrug, getting up to change their clothes, but having only three pairs, they don't have much to choose from. I wipe the last drop of blood from my knife as they leave the room.

Two days have passed since the opening ceremonies. Training has been slow; Katniss has been trying out everything that she's not used to, camouflage, knot tying, snares, and knife throwing. Katniss and Peeta practice everything at every station, anything but archery and weights. I haven't been able to focus well on what they've been doing exactly though, I've been watching Peeta and Katniss glued together the entire time. They help each other, talk animatedly, and during meals, they always eat together. Mrs. Everdeen seems happy enough with him, approving of his company, but Prim and my mother keep looking at me curiously. I can tell their looking for a reaction, so I look at the screen and stay careful to hide my emotions. The only thing keeping me from losing any inkling of hope I have is that Katniss generally doesn't laugh as much as she's been lately, and I know it's forced. I make her laugh more than anyone ever does and her laughter has the most beautiful ring to it. When she laughs in the training area, it seems to lack some of its life. But maybe it's just the fact that it's on television, that he's able to make her laugh easier than I'm able to….

I shake myself away from the thought; it's too much.

I'm still shoving the thought away when Hazelle walks through the door, looking at my face. She seems generally unsurprised by the shallow cut across my cheek. She shuts the door behind her as she walks into my room. I pretend to hardly notice her entrance, but in reality, I'm paying close attention to every move she makes.

"So, I heard you last night, and your conversation with Vick and Rory." She begins, nonchalantly playing with a piece of the bed cover. I look at her, no hint of secrecy in my expression.

"Yeah. I managed to slash myself across the face with my knife in my sleep. I must've had some pretty intense hunting dreams to be rolling around that much," I say.

"Gale. This cut is fresh. The blood would be dried by now if the knife had cut your skin that late in the night." She says sternly. "And frankly, I don't think it's very safe to allow my son to cut himself with knives."

Crap. Why hadn't I thought of that? Of course it would have been dry by now!

"I needed to prove my point. I'm not losing any blood." I say, looking down.

"And what point would you have to prove?" I think about just telling her for a moment, but discard the idea almost immediately.

"My brothers are so sure that I'm in love with her, they're so eager for gossip that it reminds me of the Capitol." She blinks. I'm sure she isn't falling for my tell-the-truth-as-a-lie trick.

"What gave them that idea?" She asks, only the smallest trace of smugness in her voice.

"I woke up yelling." I say simply, needlessly, for she must've heard me.

"And from what?" I swear she's fighting a mocking smile now.

"She's my best friend, mother. You don't expect me to have nightmares about her death? My imagination got away from me and the most horrible…" I stop speaking immediately, before I lose control. The images are swirling back into my mind. I try desperately to think about something else, but it's hopeless. I clench my teeth and try to withstand the havoc these imaginings are wrecking on my focus.

"I understand, dear. Nobody should judge your feelings based on sexist theorizing. Just because she's a girl, doesn't mean that you have to be in love with her. But Gale, she's strong. She has a chance, she just might win this." Her words give me so much hope that I crush it so the blow of her death isn't worsened by that naïve hope. Suddenly, a heart breaking possibility nags at my mind. Yes, she may survive, but what would that do to her?

"What if… if she turns out like the winner of that one year… what if she turns out like Annie Cresta?"

"Gale, Katniss is one of the strongest people I know. She will survive the brutality of the games mentally, I'm sure of it. She will have that win on her conscience forever, but she wouldn't give in to madness and you know that." The way she's talking about it, using _will_ instead of_ would, _surprises me, it's as if she's positive that Katniss will win. She's trying very hard to comfort me, but why? Why try to help me have faith in Katniss only to have it crushed in the end?

"Can she really survive the Careers? Cato? Can she really survive Thresh?"

"Gale, listen to me now, they're too stupid to out-smart her, and to slow to out-run her."

"Sexist."

"Hey! I'm just making a point and you agree."

She has me there.

"I'm going to go watch Haymitch brag, see what he says about Katniss." She says, getting up. I follow her after a moment's hesitation.

Mrs. Everdeen has already arrived and is sitting in the living room with the Television flashing in front of her. Today, the Gamemakers will be evaluating the tributes and their best skill; I'm anxiously waiting to hear what score Katniss gets. A seven? An eight? She might even get a nine or a ten. In addition to that, they use this time to let the mentors brag about their tributes, gathering sponsors by flaunting their skills. The Career mentors go on for a lifetime, but it's all the same.

"'He can wrestle a bear to the ground and throw a knife with perfect aim at the speed of light.' 'He can use any weapon the arena has to offer.' 'She can run like lightning and knows every weak point of her opponent at first glance.'" It's not long before I stop listening to them. Other mentors struggle for good details. "'She can tell which berries can be eaten.' 'He can see very far into the distance.' 'She can climb trees like a lizard.'" These interviews seem to take a very short amount of time. The others are somewhere in between, normal skills. I'm not listening to any of these, until Haymitch takes the spotlight.

"I'm going to start with Peeta." Of course he is, he saves the best for last every year. "He can lift hundreds of pounds. He has amazing muscle and determination. He can also camouflage himself invisible. He has great wrestling skill as well. Coming second only to his older brother in the competition at his school. He's very charming as well, could win himself quite a couple of useful allies," he says, pride in his voice. I flinch ever so slightly; I doubt anyone notices. Strong and artistic, I'm strong, but not overly so as he is, and when it comes to artistic ability, well, I'm not even going to think about it. Charm. Oh, God. The worst part is that I can't help but agree; he _does_ seem to attract Katniss' attention. I'm just her friend with such a severe lack of _charm_ that she hasn't even thought about the possibility of anything more between us than what we already share. Friendship isn't hardly enough.

He stops there, though. Peeta doesn't have many useful qualities then, maybe he'll be killed early on by a Career. I'm fidgeting in anticipation for Katniss' review.

"Now, you all know who Katniss is, the girl on fire. Well, she is the opposite of charming, but her looks do all the work for her in that department, and let me tell you, she is _fierce_. Can throw a knife and hit her target without trouble. She can set basic snares well enough to catch prey in an impressive amount of time. Time is valuable, and she doesn't waste it." That's my girl. The pride I get from Haymitch's words makes me grin; I catch my mom's eye and say, "That's my doing," very quickly during his pause. "She's lean, flexible, and averagely strong, but can climb like a squirrel and has the speed of a flash of lightning. She can lure in an ally and take him down in the end with her cunning." I'm surprised at how far he's going with this. He's talking her up like a Career; he seems to have a lot of confidence in her ability. "Archery. In her large arsenal of skill, this is the most effective form of offense. She is absolutely deadly with a bow. Her aim and speed is so dead on that nothing can escape her reach, hitting any target with precise accuracy, even if it's moving. Hunting and killing from a distance should be no problem for my tiger here." He smiles. I can tell that he's making some of this up without any proof, a lot of it coming from his own observations and what he takes out of them, but all of it's true. Every single word is reality, except for her lack of charm. If she's not charming, nobody is. She may not seem charming to Haymitch, but she hates him. I hate him too, me and Katniss used grumble about Twelve's lack of a good mentor every year.

This ends the bragging session. The camera turns to the announcers. The nineteen-year-old is staring into space with a dreamy expression. I want to reach out and smack him.

"My, oh my, 12 might win this, yet!" Says a woman.

"Yes. I would be her ally any day…. Wow, what a tribute." A man says, laughing.

The nineteen year old just purrs. At that, I lose all of my control.

"That Rapist!" I snarl angrily, rage making my voice louder. I realize what I just said too late and add, quickly: "That's my best friend he's talking about!" The use of "best friend" eases the glares of surprise. Luckily, Mrs. Everdeen agrees with me.

"I don't want that serial molester anywhere near my daughter! Somebody needs to fire him! Somebody needs to protect my baby!" She's frantic. My mom is scowling at the screen and Prim is looking at me, aghast. My brothers don't seem to be too upset; they seem to be thinking the same way. Unfortunately for them, I'm sitting right beside them. I whack them hard behind the head.

"I won't tell mom this, but you're no better!" I whisper harshly. They fall still and blush, looking away. My outburst seems to have been forgotten.

"Ugh! Jesus, Lyle!" The young woman that is always to his right says sharply.

Another woman breaks in before the outburst grows into a fight.

"I wonder if her friend Gale knew this about her already. They would look good together. Apparently they already favor each other. He seems like a great young man and probably shares her skills, taking into consideration that they spend so much time together," Says the woman. The scowl on Lyle's face at that statement doesn't help my position. I clench my teeth so hard that I manage to keep from blushing at the awkward silence, I catch all of the gazes focused on me and force an off-hand shrug.

"Doesn't everyone think so? I mean, _apparently_ two people of the opposite sex are not _allowed_ to be just friends. And the Capitol is so eager for gossip, they make themselves think the same way as school girls." I'm surprising myself with my acting ability; my words are annoyed and steady, then mocking. How do they know this stuff anyway? Do they constantly watch us? Gather information on every person in every District? The thought makes me shudder.

Since I seem to have finished making my point, everyone turns back to the screen. I let out a very quiet sigh of relief as the announcers change the subject.

"Well, it just goes to show that there's more to someone _behind_ the face." Another man adds.

"And what a face that is." Lyle puts the same purr into his words. I'm nearly chocking with rage and I bite the inside of my check until I taste blood to stay quiet. I allow the scowl that forces it's way into the set of my mouth, I'm not the only one angry.

"Lyle, I swear-"

"Lets move on shall we?" The woman who started the conversation hastily cuts in.

I get up to turn of the television. Watching this isn't necessary.

"I'm going to get bored listening to them ramble on about the Careers." I say, heading back to my bedroom. I'm surprised that Mrs. Everdeen hasn't said a word about my cut. I guess I didn't ask. She seems pretty lenient if it's me. Maybe she thinks I'm not susceptible to pain.

It's ironic that she's Katniss' mother, the girl who left my writhing in it.

The scores will be presented in an hour from now. I spend the time waiting, staring into space. I let my thoughts wander to Katniss for the time I have, remembering our easy childhood, the days spent hunting together, the happy moments we used share all the time. I think about her smile, and how it grew from something rare to something constant, and how her laugh rang like bells whenever we talked. The pain of these memories is excruciating, but I work through it, fight it, for the privilege of thinking about our past. Every privilege has a sacrifice.

I wake up when the TV turns on, the blaring volume shaking the foundation of the house. I rush into the living room, where my family and the Everdeens had been conversing, to see my mom turning down the volume with a wince on her face.

"This is when they start demanding our attention," she says meaninglessly, just trying to fill the silence. I rub my eyes as I sit in a chair. The dreams I had were fuzzy, small happy memories of Katniss and me, already fading away into the corners of my thinking mind. Why do all of the dreams filled with horror stay alive in my consciousness when all of my pleasant dreams dissolve into barely recallable images?

"The training scores have been determined." A voice booms on the television. They start flashing faces and numbers across the screen. As usual, the Careers are getting high scores, Cato scoring a ten, the highest so far, while the others score eights and nines. I'm surprised when the little girl that I'd barely noticed gets a seven. The rest of the tributes are getting fours and fives with the occasional six. Nothing unusual. Peeta comes up with an eight, and I grind my teeth. Why does he keep excelling? District Twelve tributes usually score fours and below. I'm so distracted that when Katniss flashes onto the screen I'm completely unprepared. Her familiar face smiles in my direction, and after a pause of suspense, her score flashed below her.

…Eleven.

Eleven?

Eleven!

Unbelievable.

Then why is it that I'm not as surprised as I probably should be?

Katniss has outshined every single tribute, including the Careers, in both the ceremonies and training. She ranks higher than Peeta by three points, and for that, I'm relieved. She's only one point away from perfect, and I'm so surprised, proud, and excited for her that I can't help but tease her name.

"Well, there's room for improvement there!" I say, and a real smile catches my lips, the two parents are laughing with me and Rory and Vick are staring wide eyed at the screen. Nobody's looking at me.

Except for, of course, Prim.

She's beaming at me; I erase my smile and scowl at her. This just makes her laugh.

"She must've been shooting like a crazy person. The Gamemakers hardly ever pay attention near the end, or, at least I wouldn't think so…." Vick is at a loss for words.

I keep my eyes on the screen for another moment, inwardly beaming with pride.

"It's Katniss, Vick! What where you expecting?" I say, smirking at him.

Katniss is not one to underestimate. Beauty. Skill. Strength. Speed. Cunning. Instinct. Determination. Ambition. She can do anything if she tries hard enough. She's my girl. Nobody but Katniss could ever dream of filling that position.

…But I don't know if she's willing to.

Or if she'll ever come back at all.

* * *

My goal is to end every chapter with a sad thought, because I'm just like that. I want to tell you all that while reading Maximum Ride, the name Fnick (Fang's little nickname after Max's near slip up on his disguised identity-Nick) reminded me of something, but I didn't know what. But today, during lunch, I realized what it was.

**FINICK ODAIR!**

**Okay then, Review you heart out! HA! Get it? End of the first paragraph? You know how he kinda reached in and... ah, never mind.**

**REVIEW!**


	8. Ruined

**This is my longest chapter yet. Quite depressing near the end, if you were Gale, anyway. I would like to point out that the reason I changed my username was because I got tired of it sounding like the alcoholic beverage. I realized this a second to late when I chose it and just realized that I could change it. I'm going to start spiraling. I haven't eaten breakfast yet, it's afternoon, I'm tired. SPIRALING! So, down to business- Ha! busy ness, it's like I'm busy so I'm full of busy ness!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the dialogue during the interview on TV. I own the dialogue outside the TV but not what's being said on it.**

**CLAIMER: Lots of stuff... don't ask if you treasure your sanity.**

* * *

This night, I dream about how Katniss deserved her score. An eleven is a rarity, only few have received such a score. She used a bow, that much I'm sure of; her shooting is amazing, her tendency to kill her prey with a perfect shot through the eye is evidence. She must have been snapping fishing line, but the more I think about it, it would take more than that to get their attention. I can't fathom what she's done; you'd have to threaten the _lives_ of the Gamemakers to get their attention, being the last one evaluated.

But how would I know? Maybe she had.

The number eleven flashes in the corners of my eyelids whenever I shut my eyes. I see Katniss, wielding her bow, shooting like lightning into the hearts of other Tributes, a stream of flame hissing and spitting as it weaves around her hunting gear. I can't help but believe she can win this, Cato is strong, Katniss is faster, Thresh is tall, Katniss is more agile, Clove is balanced and sturdy, but Katniss is swift and tireless. For every skill a Tribute has, I can imagine an opposing skill that Katniss possesses.

She has a chance.

But should I allow myself to have faith in that?

Should I risk falling harder if she's killed?

Or suffer without hope throughout the entire Games?

Today, the Tributes will be interviewed. The interviews don't start until the end of the day and go on for about and hour and fifteen minutes. With most of the day free, I go out to the forest. Nobody asks why, Katniss and I both like to wander the forest, even without a reason to do so.

I arrive at the rock ledge that we had claimed as our place and fall sullenly beside a tree, looking out at the valley. As I stare, I keep turning to my right, my habits not accepting the fact that I'm alone. I feel the tears start to fall again, but I let them drip down onto the rough stone beneath me. They're becoming a pain, I have to make sure they don't touch my clothing, and they sting my eyes. Along with the tears comes the dull burning at the back of my throat. I ignore it all and try to think about other things. Prim is dealing okay with her loss. Mrs. Everdeen is staying strong for her last daughter's sake. Hazelle is helping to comfort Mrs. Everdeen. Posy doesn't understand the loss, so not seeing Katniss bothers her, but not unbearably. Vick and Rory are feeling her absence, but aren't in too much pain. Everyone is helping each other cope with this tragedy.

Except me.

_Gale's strong. He doesn't need to be comforted. He can fight through this by himself. The loss of his best friend won't affect him to the point of depression. So why waste the time? Help the others. Gale can work through this by himself._

I hate that my lies are so convincing.

After a while, the sound of low growling reaches my ears, and I get up to investigate the sound. It's probably just a lone wolf, but having it this close to our camp isn't a good sign. I head in the general direction of the noise, a knife from our small supply of weaponry swinging loosely at my side. It's not particularly close, but letting it get any closer would be a mistake.

After several seconds of walking, the growling becomes louder, fiercer. It's an angry, frustrated sound, feral, as if desperate for something… food? It's a pretty good year for hunting. Maybe a lone wolf has more trouble hunting than a pack of wolves do. I'm pondering the possibilities when a painfully familiar cry reaches my ears.

I quicken my pace.

A scream from that voice pushes me to a run.

I don't see Prim until I'm watching her scramble for a grip on the tree she's dangling in, loosing her hold quickly.

"Gale! Behind you!" She screams, and I spin around just in time to see the jaws of a jet-black wolf snap dangerously near my throat. I smack my hand onto its nose before it can snap at me again. It gains back its momentum with a run, and before I can throw the knife, it's on me.

The ripping snarls coming from its chest are shaking me under his paws. I yell at the top of my lungs and kick out with every ounce of strength I have. The kick hits it square in the stomach and it slides away from me. I get up to throw the knife, but the wolf jumps at me, quicker than before, and it falls from my grasp. It's teeth get hold of my shoulder, and a sharp pain shoots through me. I punch and kick at it until I hear a strangled cry and the scraping of branches against one another.

The wolf looses interest in me immediately, and bounds forward toward the tree. I turn in time to see it jump Prim, who is trying to scramble away without success. I dive for the knife, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I throw it; the desperate need for it to hit its target making my aim true.

It hits the wolf square in the back.

It freezes, his teeth still opened near her throat; after an instant of suspenseful silence, a howl of pain tears through the sky as the wolf falls, landing on top of Prim.

She's gasping for breath when I walk over and shove the wolf away from her. I yank the knife away from the wolf's back and angrily sheath it into my belt. When I pick her up, she doesn't move a muscle. She's in shock. I take her to the rock ledge, but I hide her eyes away from the path. Maybe Katniss is gone, but no one is allowed to be able to locate our place.

When we get there, I sit her down in Katniss' usual sitting space and give her a handful of plump berries. I toss the knife back into the rock crevice. I sit next to her and watch her slowly eat them, popping berry after berry into her mouth. When she's done, she looks at me for a moment until her empty eyes finally register what she's gone through. Fear takes hold, and she starts breathing in quick, shallow gasps. After a moment of this, she falls against me, agonized screams and wails caused by the aftershock and fear ripping from deep inside her chest as she cowers against me.

Nothing unexpected.

I wrap my arms around her and try to relinquish her sobs by hushing her gently.

"Gale, I miss her! She's gone forever! She'll never come back! I shouldn't have let her volunteer! It's all my fault Gale, all my fault! Why did she have to volunteer? Why couldn't she let _me_ die?" She sobs.

"Prim. Prim, I need you to listen to me." I say, squeezing her slightly. She looks up at me, tears still streaming down her face. I realize suddenly that I must still have a few tearstains on my own face. She notices too, immediately, and is staring at them like they're proof of an incomprehensible phenomenon.

"Um… I, ah…" The awkwardness of this moment is too intense for words. I get up quickly and grab a leaf; looking away from her as I wipe it across my face.

She's still staring at me when I turn around.

"You are _everything_ to Katniss." I say, walking back to sit beside her, trying to ignore the urge to walk away quickly in an attempt to keep my dignity. "She would rather die than watch you receive the same fate. She would starve for a weak if it meant insuring your safety. She volunteered for you because she would not allow the Capitol to take away her little sister. There was nothing you could've done to stop her. There was nothing anyone could have done to stop her. I probably could have kissed her right then and there, on the spot, and she still would have volunteered for you," I say. The second it's out I wish I could take it back. Prim grins a little bit at that, and possibly the most horrible blush in history washes across my face. Her eyes widen visibly. "Though I doubt that would even make it harder, maybe she'd be more inclined to leave after that." I finish, the blush fading from my face as a sullen expression tries to take hold. I push it back, but can't. My eyes fall to the ground.

"You have to understand that if you'd have gone to the Games, I'm not completely sure that Katniss wouldn't have wished for death herself. You _are_ her life."

"So are you." She whispers.

I shake my head.

"Prim, she would be upset if I were to leave, of course she would, she might even cry, but I'm just her hunting partner. You're her sister. She _loves_ you. She thinks I'm a good friend."

"You know that she thinks of you as more than that."

"Prim. _She_ is _my_ hunting partner, only friend, the only one I can trust with my secrets, and the only one that keeps me from just giving up on my life. _I_ am _her_ hunting partner and best friend, she trusts me with a lot of her secrets and looks to me for help. She is not in love with me, Prim. We are only friends, my absence would hurt her, but it wouldn't do what her absence has done to me," I still can't believe that I'm saying this to Prim, _of all people_. "You know what? Our deal doesn't apply to this. I will _kill_ you if you repeat this to _anyone_. No, wait, I'll tell both of my brothers your secret, and _then_ I'll kill you."

She smiles, and I wince.

"But Katniss does love you! That's my point."

"The proof of that ludicrous statement in nonexistent." She giggles at my choice of words, and I scowl at her.

"Katniss would _die_ inside if you left. And she's more than your friend, there isn't really a word to describe your relationship…."

I know a great word for it: Cowardice.

I notice her many scratches way overdue.

"Oh!" I exclaim, rushing back into the little crevice in the rock ledge. We keep a lot of useful things here. Anything we might need during an emergency. I take out a roll of bandages and begin wrapping it around all of her freely bleeding scratches. I leave the shallow ones alone, and tackle the gaping ones with as much cover as I can give them. I grab her hand and pull her up, onto her feet. She winces when she stands, the movement stretching a rather large cut on her leg, but she can move it well enough if I support the side.

"We're going home, Prim. Close your eyes please, this place is kind of a secret." She complies easily, with no complaint. She seems to understand.

"Why were you out here in the first place? It's dangerous." I ask, trying to fill the silence.

"I wanted to follow you. You're the only one that understands." She says in a small voice. With that, the walk continues without a word.

As we walk back to the house, I head toward the place where the wolf had been killed, planning to carry it back home and clean it there. We have plenty of food, but wasting it is foolish and it would only attract predators.

I hear the ripping of flesh from bone before I see the pack of wolves surrounding the carcass. I pray that Prim isn't looking but the quick gasp of fear and the feel of her shrinking in beside me and shaking tells me she is. I pull her close and walk silently around them. Before we're a safe distance away, she starts the whimper and cry. I slowly pick her up and hold her against me, trying my best to make her feel safe. She buries her head into my shoulder.

When I pass the Hob on my way to the house, I see Mrs. Everdeen frantically running through the street, calling Prim's name. Prim doesn't move from her position, she'd started sobbing once we'd gotten farther away from the wolves, and she hasn't stopped. Her mother gives a startled shriek when she sees me carrying her, covered in bandages, and crying. She yanks her from my arms and hugs her so tight that I'm worried she might be suffocating her. She turns to me, a frightened look quickly appearing on her face. I hurry to reassure her.

"It's alright. I bandaged most of the larger scratch marks, she's not losing an unhealthy amount of blood-"

"No! She's perfectly fine and well bandaged. But you're-" She cuts of.

I look down at myself and my eyebrows rise. My shirt is shredded; blood seeping from the deep cuts left there. The fabric at my shoulder is soaked and my legs are raked with claw marks. Realizing my injury, I let out a gasp of pain, finally comprehending that it's there.

"Ah, God. That demon," I mutter, pulling up my shirtsleeve to examine the bite mark. "That might be infected. I should go get water to wash-"

"No. You're coming to my house. I have some water left over there."

"Okay, but-"

"Gale?"

"What?"

"Shut up and just go to my house before you faint of blood loss. How did you not notice this?"

"Prim was upset and I needed to carry-"

"Tell me later. Go. Now." She interrupts, giving me a shove in the direction of her house. I follow her orders, not just a little annoyed that she had asked me questions and interrupted my answers. I've never seen the point in that.

Once I reach the house and open the door, I find myself very dizzy. I walk over to the couch and just have enough time to sit down in it before I pass out.

I wake up to a strong stinging in my shoulder. I turn my head drowsily to see Mrs. Everdeen holding something against it.

"It's about time you woke up."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry I didn't get here sooner, my friend the wolf wanted to play Poker."

"A wolf? Poker?"

"More like Biter, he played dirty, used teeth instead of fingers. Didn't Prim say anything?"

"No. She's…" She trails off and nods toward Prim, who I had failed to notice, sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. "She wouldn't talk until she knew that you were okay. She… um… seems to be very attached to you."

"We're both very sad that Katniss is gone, she came to me for comfort. Today, when I went out to the forest, she tried to follow me and I didn't notice her, she must have left a good while after me. I heard a growl and went to go scare off the animal when I heard Prim scream. I found her in a tree. She called my name and gave me a chance to turn before the wolf could kill me. I kicked it away, and it fought me, but then Prim fell and it went after her. I was able to throw a knife at it before it could kill her. It got a good chunk out of my shoulder though." I add with a wry smile.

"So you're telling me you wrestled a wolf with your bare hands, then threw a knife at my daughter?" She asks, a small frown of concern touching her lips at the thought of me throwing a knife so close to Prim.

"Pretty much."

"Oh, thank you." She chokes out, wrapping her arms around me. I'm too surprised to speak; it must be around the tenth hug I've gotten this week. "She's the last daughter I have left." I'm appalled, quickly finding the nerve to pull away.

"Don't you dare say that. You are not giving up on Katniss. I'm trying so hard not to do that myself that hearing it from you almost takes away any small bit of hope I can have on her return. I'm leaving. When Prim wakes up, tell her I'm fine and not to follow me." My stern voice falls to a pathetic mutter near the end. I sigh and get up, making my way to the door. I'm conscious of her hurt eyes on my back as I leave. This woman, no matter how injured she may seem, sucks away any hope that others have and gives up on her own children. It's disgusting.

I go back to my own home to see my brothers huddled in a corner in our room before they see me. I can barely detect the small streaks of moisture down their cheeks. They finally look up at me and try for a scowl, but it falls into something like an anguished frown. I walk over to them and put my arms around their shoulders.

"I knew you two had more compassion then you were showing."

"Shut up."

"Go away." They say at the same time; I let out a dry chuckle.

"I miss her too. Don't be ashamed that you're crying."

"You're not crying." Rory says, despite me words, shamefully.

"No, I'm not. But when have you two seen me cry?" Technically, in the present tense, I _am_ not crying. It's not completely a lie.

"Never." Rory grumbles.

"Not once in my twelve years." Vick agrees. He sounds so old as he says it, as if he's been alive for a vast quantity of years. But anyone can die at any time here; he might as well act ancient.

"Then why did you expect me to? Especially in front of anybody?" I laugh at the last statement on the outside while mentally slapping myself for giving them the idea.

They don't seem to notice.

"Do you think she'll come back?" Rory asks, tentatively.

"I know she will." I put as much conviction into the words as is possible.

It's time for the interviews before long. Sitting in my room, trying to decide whether or not I should go hunt, takes up all of my time. Before I know it, I'm called into the living room.

Once I get there, Mrs. Everdeen flicks the TV on as the program is starting.

"Tomorrow is the big day, folks!" I feel dizzy just hearing him say it. "And today, we'll see what these Tributes are thinking about the whole thing!" Ceaser Flickerman says, the sound of cheering rises in the background, and the camera turns to face a roaring crowd. Then the camera turns to the line of tributes for no more than a second. My eyes catch a gleam of fire somewhere in the line, but I don't clearly see it. The camera focuses back on Caesar, and a place next to him where the Tribute will stand. It is very strategic camera work; the line of tributes isn't visible, only the one being interviewed.

"First up, District one! Ladies first!" A girl in a see through golden gown floats onstage, she has long blonde hair and emerald-like eyes. For some reason, it doesn't affect me that she's coming from the "sexy" angle.

It'd be easy for anyone to guess why.

I'm momentarily distracted as I try to guess what angle Katniss would come from.

Witty?

Mysterious?

Funny?

Likeable?

Sweet?

Sly?

I doubt she would try for ruthless and cruel. She can probably act that way, yes, but it would be difficult, and she would have to focus on the questions. Sexy? Probably not. Katniss would refuse to take on that act, no hesitation. Come to think of it, none of the usual angles people come from seem to fit her. I shake my head and give up, it's impossible to guess anything, I remember last time I tried to guess. It was at the ceremonies, I'd expected her to be in a coal miner's outfit.

Well. That was way off.

So trying to predict is useless. I sigh quietly and look back to the TV. The boy from 2 is glaring, a monstrosity of nothing but muscle, answering all of the questions with confidence, he catches my attention as someone I will be dreading in the arena. Something about the girl from 5, fox-faced and slim, catches my attention too. She's playing sly for the interview, sounding cunning and smart. She's also a threat. More Districts slip by, I take a moment to feel sorry for the quiet boy from 10. His broken arm leaves him with no chance to win; he's walking into a place where he will surely die. Poor kid.

I watch the girl from 11, Rue, who got the seven for her training score. She's dressed in a little gown with wispy wings, looking for all the world like a little, defenseless butterfly thrown into cage of starving hawks. Caesar is being very soft with her, smiling.

"Now, what would be your greatest strength in the arena?" He asks putting warm curiosity into his voice.

"I'm very hard to catch, and if they can't catch me, they can't kill me. So don't count me out." Her voice is small, trembling slightly, but for some reason, I believe her.

Thresh is next. I watch him too; he's a huge threat. Strangely though, he's very quiet and only answers the questions with a yes or a no. Maybe he isn't like the Careers. Just because someone's tall and built with pounds of muscle, doesn't mean they're killing machines. Even so, I'm going to be worrying about him too.

I'm ready for Katniss this time, expecting the worse, or in this scenario, the best.

Thank God I was prepared.

As she walks forward, her skin is glowing faintly, gold dust shimmering across her body. There is fire sketched all across her arms; flames decorate the smooth surfaces of her nails. Her hair is still in its braid, but falls down her right shoulder; it's weaved with strands of a beautiful fire-like red. Her features are drawn out; magnifying the beauty they already hold, deepening the colors. Her eyes are even huger and darker, blood red full lips, full and smiling, lashes so long and beautiful; flecks of fire flying when she blinks.

Her dress… the magnificence of her dress is painful. Gems, fire colored gems, white, orange, red, yellow, tips of a flashing blue. As she walks, fire engulfs her, moving with her, reflective, only magnifying her beautiful face.

I'm frozen.

I am not breathing.

I am not fidgeting.

I am not blinking.

I am not moving a muscle.

If I move anything, I will lose my control.

As she walks on stage, she has a façade of calm but I can see her occasional fidget, she's nervous as heck. She shakes Caesar's hand and I'd be willing to bet a good amount of food that it's sweaty, luckily, Flickerman knows how to do his job, and doesn't wipe it off on his suit.

"So, Katniss, the Capitol must be quite a change from District Twelve. What's impressed you most since you arrived here?" He asks, his voice comfortable and even. Knowing her like I do, I can tell she feels like a deer in front of headlights, but for everyone else, she would appear okay. She's not doing that bad.

Her eyes search the audience, so it seems, and focus on something, or someone. Her voice isn't as strained as I would expect.

"The lamb stew." I hear some laughs from the audience and my family. Prim lets out a sad little chuckle. I fight back a grin; she was desperate for an answer, but that was really the best she could come up with? I'd lie.

"The one with the dried plumbs?" Caesar asks, and Katniss nods. I can tell she's grateful.

"Oh, I eat it by the bucketful." He turns sideways and holds a hand to his belly, mock horror playing on his face. "It doesn't show, does it?" The crowd shouts reassuring answers and cheers, but I'm literally considering the question.

Well, it kind of shows. He seems full enough to me.

"Now, Katniss, when you came out in the opening ceremonies, my heart actually stopped." No kidding. "What did you think of that costume?"

"You mean after I got over my fear of being burned alive?" She asks, and I can tell that she's not making that up. I'd be afraid. The entire audience laughs, and so does my family. I snort. I probably would have laughed, had she been anywhere else.

"Yes. Start then," Caesar prods, still smiling.

I'll choke her if… _when_ she comes home if she says she ruined the costume; that would be just like her.

"I thought Cinna was brilliant and it was the most gorgeous costume I'd ever seen and I couldn't believe I was wearing it. I can't believe I'm wearing this, either." She lifts her skirt and I bite my lip as the flames dance across her dress. "I mean, look at it!" I'm not looking at anything but the dress, except who was wearing it, the only thing making it beautiful to me.

She looks up at the audience again, and I can tell that there's someone out there she's looking at for support. Maybe her stylist, all of them are seated right behind the cameras and that's where she's looking.

Then she spins in a complete circle.

My hand flies to my mouth, and I bite at it desperately. Mrs. Everdeen and Hazelle shriek in unison, Prim is laughing with delight.

"I hope I can be as beautiful as her one day!" She smiles.

Rory is speechless.

However, Vick is not. "_Oh_ my _dear,_ sweet _Lord._"

Prim shoots him a glare.

Hmm.

I start to taste salty blood in my mouth; I look at my hand and wince.

Oops.

I bite down hard again.

"Oh, do that again!" Caesar says. I'm practically in pain just watching her. Every time I have to watch, I get reminded that she's not coming back, that I'll never get to tell her how beautiful she was.

She lifts her arms and twirls around and around; I finally stop watching. I tear my eyes away, and wipe the tear that escaped before anyone can see it. I hide my hand in my shirt and realize I'm still holding my breath. I take in air in shallow gasps, dizzy, not from watching her spin, from _see_ing her spin.

She clutches Caesar's arm when she stops.

"Don't stop!" He cries. Silently, I'm begging the same thing; also silently, I'm begging the opposite.

"I have to, I'm dizzy!" She says, giggling.

Giggling.

Katniss must be so nervous.

But it's a beautiful sound, one I've never heard before. I'm mentally locking it away into my memory for fear of never hearing it again.

Caesar wraps his arm around her and I clench my teeth, wanting nothing else in the world but to be able to do that, right now.

"Don't worry, I've got you. Can't have you following in your mentor's footsteps." He jokes, the camera's finding Haymitch. Part of me is in a rage for the distraction, the other half is thankful. To my worse half's relief, he waves them away and points at Katniss.

"It's all right. She's safe with me." No, she's _safe_ with _me._ "So, how about that training score. E-le-ven. Give us a hint what happened in there."

_Do tell_.

She glances at the Gamemakers and bites her lip in that endearing way of hers.

"Um… all I can say, is I think it was a first." I think I see the slightest tinge of red in her cheeks, whether from embarrassment or nerves causing her to heat up, I'm not sure, but it's breath taking, added to everything else. I find myself wishing it were deeper. The cameras fly to the Gamemakers, chuckling and nodding in their seats.

"You're killing us," and there's actual pain in his voice. "Details. Details." He begs.

She addresses the balcony; "I'm not supposed to talk about it, right?"

"She's not!" one of them shouts.

"Thank you. Sorry, my lips are sealed." She says. Oh, do I wish that the Game with no rules actually _had_ no rules.

"Let's go back then, to the moment they called your sister's name at the reaping," He's very quiet now, and the audience's cheers have died down. "And you volunteered. Can you tell us about her?" I can see the answer on her face. No. But she looks up at Cinna, I presume, and makes the decision to answer anyway. I hear Prim sniffling near her mother.

"Her name's Prim. She's just twelve. And I love her more than anything." The sadness in her voice is not acted out, and in that moment, I realize something. I'm sitting here, depressed that she's gone, moping in my own self-pity, while she's probably suffering. She's well fed, she's well hydrated, but she must be dying on the inside, missing her family, constantly thinking about her own death. I fight back any emotion from reaching the outside; fight back the tears.

The City Circle is dead silent.

"What did she say to you? After the reaping?" Caesar asks, stage whispering.

She swallows. "She asked me to try really hard to win." There is no sound anywhere. Not on the TV, not inside, not outside. Nowhere, except for Prim's heaving chest and quiet sobs.

"And what did you say?" Caesar prompts. She tenses, and looks like she'd be ready to kill anyone who got near her, I'm starting to fear for Caesar's life when she answers, her voice lower.

"I swore I would." She says, her whole body hard and ridged.

Prim wails and clutches her mother tighter.

"I bet you did," Caesar calmly agrees. The buzzer goes off then and he lets go of her. "Sorry, we're out of time. Best of luck, Katniss Everdeen, tribute from District Twelve." Roaring applause screams through the City Circle and continues after she's seated. I look to the people around me, holding my hand behind my back, subtlety, as if I was just leaning against my arm. I'm carefully trying not to drip blood on the chair at the same time.

"That was well done. I'm surprised it went that well; Katniss has a way with acting, doesn't she? And her life has just the right tragedies to make some of her story pitiful without an effort on her side." I say matter-of-factly. Everyone nods their agreement as Peeta steps onstage.

I'm bored throughout the first part; he's acting funny. There is nothing _funny_ about getting thrown into an arena to kill people. I ignore every joke and act that Caesar and Peeta come up with, tuning them out and staring into space, remembering Katniss spinning, and the grace with which she moved... before she lost balance, of course.

"So, do you have a girlfriend back home? Anyone you've had your eye on? Any one had their eye on you?" My attention darts back to the screen.

Say no. She isn't yours. Say _no._

He hesitates, but finally shakes his head, _unconvincingly_. Crap.

Caesar presses him. "Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?"

_Your mom! Not Katniss._

"Well, there is this one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping."

_You got that right! So, give up._

"She have another fellow?"

_YES._

"I don't know, but a lot of boys like her."

_Yes they do. Like me, who is going to kick-_

"So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?"

"I don't think it's going to work out. Winning… won't help in my case."

_No… Please shut up._

"Why ever not?" I cannot believe the crowd and Caesar haven't caught on yet.

His blush is so red it almost looks like he's bleeding.

But he's not.

Dang.

"Because…" _No._ "Because… she came here with me."

My whole world crashes down inside me, every hope, every wish, crumpled. Everything falls to dust behind my calm, indifferent face. No longer is it my cowardice that I regret, but Peeta's bravery.

I couldn't tell her in private.

He could tell her in front of the entire world.

The camera turns to Katniss, she has the most brilliant blush on her face, and it only magnifies the radiance that already shines out of her further. I feel as if I'm being mocked for my earlier wish of a deeper blush. Her mouth is open in surprise and protest, she snaps her lips together and stares at the floor.

"Oh, that is a piece of bad luck." Caesar says, real pain clouding up his eyes and tightening his voice. The crowd is the same way, some crying out and some painfully silent.

"It's not good," Peeta agrees, sadly.

"Well, I don't think any of us can blame you. It'd be hard not to fall for that young lady. She didn't know?" He asks shooting a glance at Katniss.

"Not until now." He mutters, shaking his head.

"Wouldn't you love to pull her back out here and get a response?"

_No. At least spare me that._

But the crowd roars accent, screaming at the top of their lungs.

"Sadly, rules are rules, and Katniss Everdeen's time has been spent. Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mallark, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours." Mocked again, for wishing there were no rules. The screaming and roaring and cheering are the loudest I've ever heard at any of the Games. Katniss' mother turns off the TV and turns to stare at me, it's then I realize that every one is. My entire heart is melting into nothing, burning through with all of the regret and pain it's ever been capable of feeling all at once. I'm barely breathing, my heart is beating too fast, it feels like all of the blood that usually streams through my veins has come to a sudden, jolting halt.

I look at them and shrug my shoulders.

"What?"

* * *

**"Even when the wold comes crashing down!" Well that was fun. REVIEWS! Tell me that you hate it! Tell me that you love it! Tell me that you're to bored with it to review! I know I put something similar to that on an earlier chapter, but I DON'T CARE! "I'm not a hero, I'm just a boy, and I DON'T CARE!" Jeez, I keep getting songs stuck in my head! I'm not sure that they're the exact lyrics. Now I have "Welcome to the Black Parade" stuck in my head. I enjoy making people suffer.**

**REVIEW! **


	9. Fear

**Howdy! "It's 2 a.m. and I'm wide awake writing a song, if I get it all down on paper it's no longer inside of me, threatnin' the life it belongs to..." I have another song stuck in my head. Only because it's exactly 2 p.m. right now! Anyway, to all of you Team Peetas out there, I disagree, although I respect your opinion. I want all of the people who are here to try to convince Team Peetas to switch sides! Argue! I want to go outside and hear people shouting at each other! Spread the word, tell Suzanne Collins! GALE SHALL PREVAIL! PM or talk to all of the Hunger Games people you know! Spread my campaign message! GALE SHALL PREVAIL! He would have followed her to the Games but made a promise to help her family SURVIVE because he had to! He mourns her absence EVERY DAY! He helped her when she was in need of a friend! He helps her hunt day after day! Yes, Peeta gave her the bread, but Gale showed up to prevent that ever happening again! I could go on forever! Anybody with a good argument can PM me, I'll have fun with it! But most importantly, spread the word! Tell everybody! PROMOTE YOUR TEAM! Spread my story around to show his view on things!**

**Okay, sorry, had to rant about that. I... needed to let that out. I love controversy!**

**Well, this is the first day of the Games, sorry if it's a little slow at first, I can't let his emotions run wild until it looks like she's dead on TV. _Then_ we shall have some fun...**

* * *

"Um…" Mrs. Everdeen stalls, the awkward silence making it even harder for her to reply.  
"So… Katniss has an admirer. He's not the first." The silence drags on, so I continue. "Why are you looking at me? It's none of _my_ business." I say, forcing another shrug. "Maybe _your_ business, but she's only my friend, she could choose anyone she wanted to, if it were up to me." I take the chance to glance around the room, taking in Hazelle's confused glare, Mrs. Everdeen's leer, Vick's look of uneasiness, Rory's averted eyes, Posy's innocent unawareness, and Prim's… shock. She almost looks… impressed. I grimace at her, she shrugs and a small grin crosses her face.

Hazelle decides to get to the point.

"Well, I'd expect protest from you. She's your… um…" She stumbles over the words and apparently tries for a different approach. "I always figured you had kind of claimed ownership of her… company… a while ago." Her words are complete nonsense to my ears. If anything at all, _Katniss_ would own _me_, and I'd give myself to her without hesitation. No one owns Katniss; she's a free creature of her own will and no one else's. I could never own her. That is utterly absurd.

"No one owns Katniss. She doesn't give herself to anyone. She's my hunting partner and we're close, but I don't _own_ her." _I've only dreamt about it, wished for it, would give up anything for __her_ _to own _me_._

"Oh. I thought… it would… eventually be you." Mrs. Everdeen mutters, looking down. I stare at her, my eyebrows raised. _Me?_ She'd rather her daughter have _me_ instead of anyone else at the school, anywhere?

I haven't the slightest clue how to respond to that.

So I don't.

And so the silence stretches on.

My thoughts wander to Peeta; he's at the Capitol _right now_, either getting a polite rebuff, or an accepting smile. I shiver, thinking of her taking him instead of me. She isn't the kind of person to become attached to anyone else. I remember our talk in the forest, before any of this happened, before any of the fear, heartbreak, tears, and jealousy, back to the time when I was still Gale. When I was still the strong Gale, the Gale that didn't cry. 'I never want to have kids,' she'd said. Besides, they can't be together; one of them-_Peeta_-must die.

I'm so caught up in my own inner thoughts that I don't notice the continuing awkward silence until it's broken.

"Well, lets eat." Hazelle says quickly, grabbing some of the bear meat and bread and bringing it to the table. I frown at the remaining supply, it hasn't lasted as long as I'd hoped; I'll have to hunt soon.

I lay awake all night, wondering if she'll die tomorrow, if she'll get wounded. I keep trying to picture the arena, all of the possibilities, all of the potential risks, but mostly, I think of Katniss. For hours, I stay awake, millions of thoughts creating a whirlwind in my brain until sheer exhaustion pulls me under.

I walk through the trees, the rain soaking me, causing my backbone to quiver sharply at regular intervals. My shoes constantly splash mud at my ankles, and the downpour quickly rinses it off. My shirt and hair are plastered to my skin. I'm coughing by the time I get to the shelter of the rock ledge. Sitting there, clutching her arms tightly around herself, is Katniss. I rush over to sit beside her, wiping the hair from my face. She looks up at me, also soaking, and lets out a tentative smile. By instinct, I wrap my arm around her, trying to combine our body heat to stay warm.

"Hi, Gale." She splutters, still shivering.

"Hello." We sit there in companionable silence for a while, watching the rain fade away.

"We could do it, you know," She says, quietly, looking out over the valley.

"What?" I ask, having no clue what she's talking about.

"Leave the district. Run off. Live it the woods. You and I, we could make it." She clarifies, shyly meeting my eyes.

I can't speak at first. It's… everything I could have ever wanted. It's everything that's impossible, everything that's too amazing to happen to me. I'm at a loss for words.

"If we didn't have so many kids," she adds, misinterpreting my silence. But once she says it, I realize that she's right. It'd be impossible; we have too many people to take care of, two families that can't fend for themselves.

"I never want to have kids." The thought of them being eligible for the Hunger Games is frightening; it would be horrible. If I were to have kids, I'd have to leave the districts, besides, Katniss is only my friend, she'd never feel the same-

"I might. If I didn't live here." She says suddenly, breaking into my thoughts. I glace at her, shocked to the ends of my wits.

"That's exactly how I feel about it." I say, too quickly to think through the words, realizing to late how they might be interpreted.

"Really? Who-" I lean forward and kiss her before she can finish the sentence, right on the lips. I pull back quickly though, afraid that I'd offended her. I see her wide eyes and feel the crushing disappointment of ruining what friendship we already had.

But she reaches up and kisses me back, her hand resting on my shoulder, my hand reaching to her back to hug her to me. My world bursts into a brilliant brightness. The only thing that I've ever wanted is her, and she's taken me. Accepted me as her own. I'll never frown, never feel sadness, there's nothing left to want, and nothing left to cry for. I have everything I could wish for right here, she's taken me, accepted my invitation, and she'd reacted with delight instead of disgust. My endless yearning has been silenced, my pain seized. Nothing could bring me down now, there's nothing-

"Gale! Get up before the Peacekeepers come!" Hazelle yells from the living room.

I sit up and a small groan of agony leaves my mouth without my consent. I start to shake thinking about what could have been, what could have happened, if I wasn't so afraid. My breath trembles, uneven under the hand frantically covering my mouth. Dreams are evil. They give you every single wish you've ever had and lets them come true, then you wake up to find that nothing's changed, that you're still living in the same painful world where wishes are just that, desperate hopes for what you'll never have. They give you everything, and then rip it back out of your hands, giving you a taste of the implausible wonders of your imagination, before leaving you to know how beautiful your life could have been. Luckily, my brothers are already at the TV so no one overhears my shaking breaths and painful moans.

I jump suddenly, thinking further through the dream and realizing something.

It'd been what really happened the day of the reaping, but Katniss and I had switched roles.

And I'd had any amount of courage.

It's what would have happened if Katniss felt the same way. Had she really been too afraid to tell me the same thing I'd been unable to tell her?

I'd give most anything to believe that.

I swallow my self-resentment and walk out to the living room. I get there just in time to see the Peacekeepers looking in our window, nodding as they see me enter and Hazelle turn on the TV. There has never been a time when cameras weren't in the houses. They turn them on when the Games start each year, but they make sure that we're in front of the TV in the first place, so they don't have to bother to hunt us down later. If only.

The Games haven't started quite yet, so the announcers are currently talking about bets.

"Cato. He's got the muscles of a bull, he'll have great allies, and I'll bet he's a demon with a sword." A man says, nodding as he speaks.

"Thresh. Did you see that monster? He looks like he could be dangerous when he's angry." Another man compliments.

"Katniss!" A woman says. "Remember what her mentor said about her? I think she has a chance for the win!"

"That girl form 5. She's going to get some male sponsors. She'll go a long way." A second woman adds.

"I'm not going to bet on who wins, but I'll bet on who dies first, after the cornucopia bloodbath. I've got money on Rue. The boy with the broken arm will be overlooked and killed later. Rue will be taken down quick because she's easy." Someone says with a wave of the hand. I have to bite back my anger so that I don't make a scene, but she has a chance. A seven in training can go a long way.

"Katniss." Says the nineteen-year-old, Lyle. I look around the room and meet the surprised stares of the others. "Did you forget that she got an _eleven_? She's going to get sponsors and allies too, let me guarantee." He smiles.

Well, the announcers have faith in her. So we should too right?

Should.

"Well, it's time!" Says the woman with purple skin and golden eyebrows. The cameras change, and suddenly we're looking at a bird's-eye view of the cornucopia. None of the arena is visible yet.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!" Claudius Templesmith booms, and the camera darts up and does a 360 around the arena. There is a steep slope behind all of the tributes. To the far right lies a lake, in front of them, the cornucopia and all of its goods shine in the sunlight. To the left lies sparse woods of pine. I pray that Katniss heads that way quickly, she can't go for the supplies; she can't risk her life like that. When the camera flies back to the tributes, I see all of their faces, calculating their chances. Katniss and the others are dressed in what seems similar to the hunting gear we use here. It looks comfortable and flexible; at least the outfit won't get in her way. She's nothing of the person I saw at the ceremony and the interview, she's just Katniss; the only thing remaining from her fiery debut is the fire-like nail polish on her fingernails.

I see Katniss' eyes lock on something in particular, and her legs move into position to run. The camera sees it too and focuses on a silver bow, forty yards away from Katniss.

Oh, no.

The camera immediately focuses back onto her face, showing her grim determination, before I see her turn suddenly to the right. The camera follows her line of sight and ends up focused on Peeta, and he's looking at her, slightly shaking his head.

The gong rings out, leaving Katniss confused on where to go, she's missed her chance.

I'm momentarily relieved that Peeta was there to distract her.

She grabs some cheep things right in front of her, but then I see the anger in her eyes and hold my breath as she sprints in twenty yards to get an orange backpack.

She's going to kill me if she keeps taking risks like these.

Another tribute shows up, he's running in her direction, and wants the backpack. I bite my tongue as he tries to pull it out of her grasp.

He has no other weapons, but if she goes down, she might not get up, and I'm so scared that she'll get pushed over. He looks strong, but Katniss won't surrender. She struggles for it instead of running, and I'm about to scream for her to escape him before it's too late, when suddenly, the boy stops, blood spurting out of his mouth. She recoils as the blood spatters across her face when the boy slips to the ground, a knife in his back. The girl from two has a half-dozen spears; and I've seen her throw in training.

"No, no, no," Mrs. Everdeen whimpers

"Katniss, run!" Prim screams.

She does. When Katniss sprints, she's fast, when she sprints with adrenaline pumping through her, she's lightning.

I suck in a breath in my immediate terror as I watch a blade fly toward her back, I see a moments glance at a life without Katniss and feel my facial expression run wild with the extreme force of the possibility. To my intense relief, she must have heard the faint noise a knife makes as it flies through the air, because at the last second, she pulls her pack to her head and the knife lodges into it, right where her bare neck used to be. I fight until I finally gain back control over the emotions showing in my eyes.

I let out a deep breath, my chest imperceptivity shaking with silent gratitude for her reprieve.

The camera catches her from the front as she runs for the forest; I watch a mocking grin spread across her cheeks, and a sudden, unexpected smile shows itself on my face.

"Oh… oh, that was too close…" Mrs. Everdeen is near tears and her voice is shaking. I look over at her, the ghost of my smile still lingering. I'm glad for the smile, I'm so relieved that my worry is smothered by it.

"She turned the true throw of a blade that should have caused her imminent death in the beginning of the Games into a lethal weapon that could save her from that imminent death. I'd be proud if I were you." I mumble, turning back to the screen to watch the bloodbath.

She doesn't answer.

The rest of the day, they show the tributes walking in their own directions. A small and helpless looking girl is on a similar trail to Katniss, but doesn't seem to be a problem. I can't help but feel sorry for her, she doesn't have a chance; she reminds me of the girl from eleven in that way.

In the late afternoon, the gong rings again and the television screen changes to show all of the faces of the tributes, flashing by in rapid succession. The gong continues to toll, stopping at eleven. We won't know who's dead until later tonight, but we do know that eleven of the twenty-four faces that just ran before us are gone forever.

Eleven deaths.

Only thirteen people left for Katniss to run from, hide from, or kill, eleven less people to threaten her life.

Since nothing of real importance is going on right now, and everyone else is still walking, the camera focuses on Katniss again, doing something different. She is digging through her orange bag. She frowns slightly, looking at the pack. The color will be risky, but she must know that she has to camouflage it. She will, sooner or later. She finds a black sleeping bag, some crackers, beef strips, a bottle of iodine, a box of matches, a small coil of wire, sunglasses, and a half gallon plastic bottle.

She looks inside the bottle hopefully, but it's empty.

I grit my teeth, they really couldn't spare five seconds to fill it up? If she dies from dehydration because of their inability to fill a half-gallon bottle, I'll go ballistic.

And then I realize what's really going on.

Katniss is in the Games now. She could die in an instant. There would be nothing left for me to live for is she's killed, no one left to make me smile. I would never laugh again. I'd be hard-pressed not to leave my family defenseless. I'd be hard-pressed to live at all. And here is my lifeline, in an arena filled with angry Tributes that all want her death. She could die from so many different things, knives in the back, arrows through the heart, an ambush, or a hand-to-hand battle with a Career, a dirty Capitol trick, bleeding to death, poison. Then there are all of the cheap deaths that happen too often, dehydration, hunger, insanity, Katniss is all alone out there, with no one to protect her, the only second chance she may get would be if her mentor let sponsor gifts flow through to her, and when is he sober enough to do that? Throughout the rest of the day, I watch dully as the Careers plan out who to kill first, for the camera has switched to them. For now, it's the same old districts that have Career Tributes, but soon, others will join if they feel the need. The Careers have chosen Katniss as one of their threats, they've been stuck on how to kill her; they don't know her weaknesses.

Then again, neither do I, really.

"We could sneak up on her and attack her from behind…."

"No, she'll hear us, we might be able to skin her alive, but who here can walk silently through a forest to catch her?" They give up, and I let a subtle wash of relief settle through my constant worry. It's gone soon though, for anything can happen, and the Careers will eventually figure something out.

The rest of the day is slow, and I figure that the reason the cameras have avoided Katniss is because she's been resting, but once twilight starts to settle around the arena, the cameras flicker back to her. She's cutting out the outer bark of a pine tree to get to the inside, demonstrating her good survival instinct. She's heading down hill too, through valleys. Looking for water, I assume, because she should hate to be on low ground, where it's easier to be spotted than to spot others. The camera quickly flashes to the other tributes, showing everyones progress. I see the twelve year old from eleven, picking berries off of the many bushes; all of them, I realize, safe to eat. The girl from five is setting a reasonable snare, but in a bad place, and it looks like it might fail if the animal comes from a different angle than her intention. Thresh is alone, still wandering, far from anyone else. The Careers are all together by the lake, sorting through their spoils.

Night falls, and all of the tributes start to make camp, the cameras flick through all of them. When Katniss begins making her camp, I watch without surprise as she climbs a willow tree to the near top. It's not very tall, but it's surrounded by a forest of other willows and offers thick concealment. She sets her sleeping bag, black as night, near the branches closest to the trunk, where she'll be at less of a risk of falling. She stuffs her bright orange backpack in before her to hide the bright color, and then falls in after it. She brings out her belt after a minute, and ties it around her self and a branch. She's the last one they show. The cameras fly toward the sky. The anthem plays as the Capitol seal shines next to the stars, once the anthem finishes, they start showing the faces and district numbers on our TV screen. I know Katniss is watching it from the sky, and hope that she's feeling fine, confident, like maybe she has a chance. The first person is the girl from 3, then the boy from 4; this is a surprise, a Career dying the first day? The boy from 5, so the girl from 5 is still out there, both tributes from 6 and 7 are dead and gone, the boy from 8, the girl and boy from 9, the boy who was killed in Katniss' struggle for the backpack, and the girl from 10. Peeta and Katniss are alive, Rue is alive, Thresh and Cato are alive, Clove is alive, the fox-faced girl is alive, That girl named Glimmer is alive. There are five Career Tributes to be scared of now, five, not six. Katniss just has to stay clear of them and hope that they get killed before she does. The camera slips into the sleeping places of the Tributes as the TV runs a message over the top saying that the people of the districts are free to sleep. They show Katniss last, I watch her muscles relax and her eyes slowly close, she looks so innocent. She looks like the same Katniss she was before she left, snuggled up in a tree, trying to fall asleep after a long day.

Mrs. Everdeen gets up slowly and looks to us with a look of intense suffering.

"She… she's fine so far." She manages through the silence.

I'm not sure what I'm feeling right now, it's not a mixture of feelings, but a constant flow of them, one after the other, constantly changing, so strange that it might as well be a new emotion all together. Longing, fear, suffering, helplessness, hope, rage, depression, then seeing her alive in that tree, relief so strong it overcomes the other emotions so forcefully that for a second it stands alone. And throughout all of the conflicting emotions, all of them struggling to force their way to dominance, I force my mouth into a relaxed line on my face.

"I never doubted that she would make it through the first day." Respect, admiration, awe, and pride at her success at surviving melts quickly into doubt, anxiety, grief, panic, agony, concern, misery, and stress for what will happen tomorrow. I feel so conflicted, trapped between all of the different rushes of unexpected feeling that keep changing. Acting relaxed, the only emotion I'm _not_, is almost impossible to even the practiced mind, such as my own.

Prim's eyes flash to meet mine, and the sympathy in them burns.

"She's going to come back, she promised me, and Katniss doesn't break a promise." She says in a strong, hard, and determined voice; one that only a distressed pre-teenager could pull off while in doubt.

"I'm sure you're right, Prim." Hazelle whispered softly, getting up to pat her shoulder.

"Will you come over to our house tomorrow, then?" Mrs. Everdeen asks, searching my face, even as the question is directed at Hazelle.

"Of course." My mom agrees, also sneaking a glance at me.

"Alright, no need to ask me. I just follow the crowd." Vick says, partially ignoring the conversation and completely unaware of the looks that the two parents are giving me.

"That declaration is seconded by me." Rory says in a bored-sounding voice, standing and stretching. I notice the uncaring and almost sarcastic lilt to their voice; it's undeniable evidence that they're worried out of their minds. I shoot them a look of reassurance, it lacks a smile, but I'm worried that it might turn into a grimace if I try. They simultaneously frown at me.

"Bye." I say shortly, locking my eyes with both of the parents' stares, pointedly glaring. I meet Prim's eyes too, but the previous glare I had with the adults doesn't stick with my eyes. I get up and exit the room, nodding once to everyone before I go.

I take steady if not slightly long strides out of the room. It's late, I'm tired, I need a solitary place to sit and think. My brothers will undoubtedly pretend not to notice that it's clearly to late for them to stay awake any longer. I'll have a good fifteen minutes to myself.

It's better if I face the facts; I will not be able to hold myself together if Katniss dies. I will lose my precarious balance and fall, shatter on the hard floor, and my pieces will scatter too far to ever be fully retrieved. I will be impossible to repair. No amount of help or hard effort will re-connect everything. I can be gathered back together; my broken pieces tossed into a bowl, but I won't be fixed, I will forever be silent, unmoving, and depressed beyond rehabilitation. I will be unreachable by any of the others, not even Prim, who has given me the little strength and confidence I have, would get through to me. I'd be gone. I would only hunt; bring them food from the forest, refusing to let Katniss down.

So Katniss must live.

She must make it through the Games. She must keep her sanity alongside her. If she becomes lost to insanity, I would be broken. I'd have a gaping hole punched through the fragile glass at the center of my being. But I'd never leave her side. I'd forever help her learn to love the world again, learn to love her family again, even as pointless as my endless effort might be. I'd work all of my life to make her see me as a friend, but my family wouldn't be able to touch me. I'd be completely released from their grasp. Even if I hunted for them, I would only do so because of the promise I'd made to Katniss.

The loss of her life implies the loss of mine. Without her smile or laugh, without the feel of her against me when she needs a hug for comfort, without her presence beside me as I hunt, without her listening ear, her comforting touch, the twinkle in her eyes when she looks at Prim, I would never feel happiness again. She _is_ my happiness. I don't have enough to sustain a smile now and then by myself. When she came into my life, she willingly gave me some of her own joy. She had made me smile, and eventually, laugh, I'd become used to that for the past five years. Now that she's gone, all of that has left me, and taken with it the miniscule amount happiness I'd had in the first place. She's left me dangling, holding on to my promise to her so I could have a purpose to live for, something to occupy my unreachable mind. I have to help her family, give them someone strong to look at, someone with confidence in her coming back alive. They need a man, and I'm the only one, no matter how loosely that definition fits me.

I have to watch her through the Games; I have to feign faith in her for my family and hers. I have to breath evenly, look untouched by her injuries, and keep a reasonable expression all the time, whatever happens. I have to comfort her sister, I have to look confident in her for my brothers, I have help our mothers accept that she's in danger, and tell them that she'll come back. I have to lie. At the end of all of that, I have to keep a strait face when she dies, even when I loose everything that makes me myself, even when I shatter into a million pieces on the inside, I have to look unaffected.

And it just might kill me.

But the Capitol would have killed her.

I'd have nothing to live for anyway.

And if that doesn't kill me, I'll live my life in suffering, keeping that strait face for my entire existence, straining under the effort. Killing myself for her promise, killing myself for her family, even if I'm unable to die.

* * *

**Real quick: Unable to die: Not able to kill himself because he has to keep his promise. :)**

**Jeez, he sounds emo doesn't he? Just another reason to LOVE THIS CHARACTER! He is sad, sadness is deep, depression is deep. GALE IS A DEEP PERSON! Diving down into the depths of his cold heart can suck the living essence out of anyone. His soul is completely devoid of happiness, it dejects any light or warmth to enter into the abyss.**

**Go poetry.**

**Well, let us take a moment to try and feel pity for the deserted soul that has been left to implode on itself on account of the absence of the only thing that gives it life, light... without that source of warmth, it doesn't have the strength to carry on... to feel... to give life to the body who obtains it.**

**God, I'm depressing myself.**

**74 is my favorite number, it has been for as long as I can remember, it seems to show up EVERYWHERE. I was amazed when I realized that it was the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games in the 1st book. Just FYI.**

**GALE SHALL PREVAIL!**


	10. Irritation

**Throughout both of the Hunger Games books my favorite inner-thought/quote is what Katniss realized right after Gale got whipped.**

**Gale is mine. I am his. Anything else in unthinkable. Why did it take him being whipped within an inch of his life to see it?**

**Because she's stupid. HELLO! Doesn't the male/female friendship always turn into something more starting on the guy's side and then eventually the girl's or reversed? GIVE ME A CONTRADICTION TO THAT STATEMENT! Never, **_**never**_** does this not happen. Twilight- Jacob, Lament- James, The Hunger Games- Gale, Graceling- Po, Maximum Ride- Fang, Fire- Brigan, Percy Jackson and the Olympians- Percy (I don't know who fell for who first), then there is also the girl falling in love first, occasionally. Harry Potter- Ginny, Ranger's Apprentice- Alyss, His Dark Materials- Lyra (At least... well, she kissed him first. I don't know on this one either.) Who disagrees? Someone give me an example. The only time this didn't happen was with Raffin in Graceling. AND THIS IS ALL I CAN THINK OF. Plus, Raffin is Katsa's cousin. GRR!**

**So that's one challenge for you. I would also like you to either PM me or review me and tell me a song that fits a character in The Hunger Games trilogy. For instance: Three songs that I think fit Gale: "What Hurts the Most" (Rascal Flatts), "Far Away" (Nickelback), and "You and Me" (Lifehouse). Listen to these songs and think about Gale at the same time. "What Hurts the Most" matches **_**my story**_** so freaking closely that I started laughing. Well, anyway, give me some songs to listen to! I don't cae if it matches Peeta, Haymitch, Mrs Everdeen, anyone! If it fits it ships!**

**Well, here is my chapter, and a quote from possibly one of the stupidest ideas for a TV show ever.**

**"Chowder... are you crying?"**

**"NO! Men don't cry. Men **_**weep.**_**"**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own any of the characters mentioned in The Hunger Games Trilogy. I do not own The Hunger Games Trilogy. I do not own the dialogue spoken by any of the Careers **_**or Peeta**_**, incase you don't consider him a a Career.**

**

* * *

**

I wake up early. My brothers, Prim, and I have to go to school today. It's my last year; soon I'll be forced to work in the mines, so I'm trying not to waste it. Before I go to school though, I'm going to hunt, set a few snares, and check them when I get home. The disadvantage of hunting with snares is that I don't have food when I need it. I'm definitely strong enough to pull back on a bow with ease, but my aim is terrible.

I put on my hunting gear and head out, it's still dark. School starts soon after dawn, so I make my way up to the forest quickly. The fence's electric field isn't activated, as usual, so I slip under the fence and into the trees. I set my snares in a clearing. I've set my traps here before and it's been quite a well-populated area. I make sure not to set my snares in the same place every time, though. I've chosen about ten spots that are far out in the forest to set my snares and memorized the paths to them over time. Sometimes I'll set some closer to the fence, where I don't really have to memorize my way back to them, but they're still successful. I haven't visited this clearing in a while, so I should be able to catch something here by evening, when I'm sent home from school. I set one snare by a nearby tree, moving my hands gracefully and familiarly through the easy movements. Making sure to tie the knot tight and that the snare is secure from every angle before moving on. I repeat these actions five times until I have a minefield of traps, all strung and ready for their prey.

I head home after checking through them one more time. Dawn is just approaching, a very dim grey light starting to show in the east, a sign that I've made good time. I get home earlier than usual, so I turn on the TV; I turn down the volume so I don't interrupt my family, who should still be sleeping soundly. The TV flickers on, and the cameras are on the Careers, wandering through the forest, all I have to see is a couple of the muscled bodies to know. I sit on the couch and close my eyes, praying that they're nowhere near Katniss.

"Twelve down and eleven to go!" One of them shouts, the others hoot and clap their hands like idiots, probably gaining everyone's attention. Even they will get killed if a knife gets thrown at their backs; they're too cocky for their own good. Opening my eyes to look at them, I finally realize that the Careers have gained a member.

Peeta.

Oh, God.

I want to strangle him, I want him dead. I want to be the one to kill him. If Katniss… she doesn't… _if_ Katniss… loves… him, and he kills her, I'll kill him mercilessly if he wins. Not only would Katniss have… loved him… and… not me, something I would tolerate for her sake, no matter how painful it would be, but also, the only person she thought she could trust would have betrayed her. He would kill her on the inside too. That deserves a slow death. I hope that he gets killed by one of the ruthless tributes, someone who would kill him slowly for the fun of it, so that I can watch his suffering.

Jealousy is horrible, I can't even think of her being tied to him without feeling a stinging pang in my heart. I could barely think of it at all, I kept halting in my thoughts at the pain the idea causes me. But not only am I jealous of him, I'm outraged. He can't do that to Katniss, she deserves who ever she wants, even if it's not me… even if it kills me. To have that person trying to kill her is just… cruel. Evil.

When I turn my attention back to the screen, they're checking a dead girl for supplies. It's the one who was on a similar route Katniss. My heart nearly stops; she could be so close right now, it depends if the girl got any closer when I wasn't watching. Maybe she'll hear them and know what side Peeta's on before he finds her. Or maybe she's still asleep and they find her before she wakes up….

No. I refuse to believe that.

"Better clear out so they can get the body before it starts stinking." Says the boy from two, Cato. They're approaching a clearing, holding torches and flashlights in their hands.

"Shouldn't we have heard a cannon by now?"

"I'd say yes. Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately."

"Unless she isn't dead."

"She's dead. I stuck her myself."

"Then where's the cannon?"

"Someone should go back. Make sure the job's done."

"Yeah, we don't want to have to track her down twice."

"I said she's dead!"

Everybody starts to argue. Peeta isn't intervening and he's not part of the quarrel, he's just hovering in the background. I snicker to myself. He's cold hearted enough to betray Katniss but too weak to really contribute to the Career pack. Finally, he speaks up.

"We're wasting time! I'll go finish her and let's move on!" He says, his voice fiercely slicing through the argument. A tree rustles somewhere near the clearing; the sudden slash through the voices, immediately followed by silence, must've startled a bird... or something.

"Go on, then, Lover Boy, see for yourself." Cato says, off-handedly. I find a little comfort in Peeta's horrible condition, his entire face is bruised and swollen, he has a loose bandage on one arm, blood seeping from the sides, and he's limping. Looks like he had a bad time at the cornucopia. But why had he told Katniss to avoid the bloodbath? Doesn't he want her dead? Does he want to kill her himself? But how, when he's appeared to be in love with her since his age permitted the feeling? Or so I've always thought. None of it makes sense.

"Why don't we just kill him now and get it over with?" _I concur._

Kill him so he won't kill her.

"Let him tag along. What's the harm? And he's handy with that knife." _No. Kill him. Come on, you know you want to! It'll be fun, good family entertainment! _"Besides, he's our best chance of finding her." Katniss. He's their best chance of finding her? He knows where she is? She trusts him with her location? You'd be trusting them with your life. So, does that mean that she… no… she doesn't... love him… I _hope_ she doesn't love him. She trusts _me _with her life, doesn't she?

Either way, she can't die that way; have the person she lo- _trusts_, kill her? I don't care what her feelings for him would do to me. She simply cannot get killed by him. Oh, why won't they just leave Katniss alone and kill Peeta? He looks like he's more of a threat than her. So why try to find _her? _I can't think about anything but her agony. If Katniss were to murder me... I... I guess I just wouldn't mind my life ending. Everything would be over, I wouldn't have to feel... the indescribable torture that that would cause me. I wouldn't feel any of it in death.

Or so the rumors promise.

"Why? You think she bought into that sappy romance stuff?" The words bring me comfort. A little. What have I been thinking? Katniss knows what happens in the Games. She knows how people betray each other, how they'll earn your trust and use it against you. She wouldn't fall for his lies, I'm sure she's aware of what side he's on. She _must_ be.

"She might have. Seemed pretty simpleminded to me. Every time I think about her spinning around in that dress, I want to puke." But I see him get a far away look in his eyes for a moment before snapping back into focus. _You only want to puke because you can't think about anything else. Only because you know you want her even as you want her to die. You're disgusted with yourself, not her._ I can tell that he was just as surprised as everyone else that something like that could come from Twelve. Just as immediately under her spell. He probably does think she's simpleminded though, and how he thinks that, I don't know. She may have appeared that way, because she was so tense, but Katniss is one of the smartest people I know.

"Wish we knew how she got that eleven." _Because she's better than you._

"Bet you Lover Boy knows." Apparently, that's his permanent nickname. But Peeta _can't_ know, Katniss knows better than to tell _anyone_ what she did. He probably has an idea about her archery skills, we sell his father a lot of what she's shot, but she wouldn't explain the details. That would be a horrible mistake, a dim-witted, slow, obtuse, unintelligent mistake. One that Katniss would never make. I hear footsteps, the noise silences the tributes. Peeta makes his way through the trees, causing a racket. He couldn't sneak up on Katniss even if he were _trying_ to move quietly.

"Was she dead?" Cato asks.

"No. But she is now," Peeta answers, and the cannon fires right on cue. "Ready to move on?"

The Careers head off, all of them at a run, and the cameras follow them as birdsong starts to fill the air, signaling the break of dawn. After several seconds of following the Careers, the camera snaps back to where it just was, at the clearing. I'm immediately alert for any signs of movement, but there's nothing there. Abruptly, I hear the leaves rustling again in the tree that they were before. I squint my eyes, wondering what's in it. I see a defined shape moving through the branches, then, all at once, the figure jumps down, landing in a crouch like a cat on the ground.

I lose my breath, my heart stutters in it's tracks. _Katniss._

She stands slowly, coming out of her crouch and loosening her muscles. She looks up, and the camera moves to lock onto her face. She cocks her head slightly and a knowing smile spreads across her lips. She was listening the entire time.

That is how you play the Games; that is how you get sponsors. That is how you stay alive.

I let out a gasp. Sucking in the air that I lost when she jumped down. She won't fall for his trap now, she won't-

_She doesn't love him._ She smiled, _smiled_. She is unaffected by his lie, she isn't shaking, sobbing... she isn't acting like she's just been betrayed. She _doesn't care_.

But _Is_ she acting?

Can Katniss act this well? No, she... can she? Well, he doesn't love her, and this small fact relieves me more than anything ever has in a long time.

It only lasts for a second, my lovely relief. Only until I realize that Katniss may know not to trust Peeta, but that this doesn't mean that he won't stop hunting for her.

I get off the couch and go back to my room, shaking my brothers awake and calling for Hazelle. She'll need to hurry up if she doesn't want the cameras to catch her late. I take off my hunting gear and switch it for a T-shirt and shorts. My brothers change their clothes too and look into a mirror, trying to flatten down their hair. I don't bother, I never do. Why in Panem would I try to look presentable? The irritating truth is, _apparently_ I don't need to.

The aching truth is, Katniss isn't here.

Not that I've ever tried to look decent for this reason.

Hazelle opens her door as I walk past her room, her hair swiftly brushed through and her clothes clean if not a bit rumpled. We can only afford so much, one hair-brush, one jagged piece of mirror, three pairs of clothes each, and several other necessities such as shoes. We each have one pair and wear them until it's so tight on our feet that the pain is almost unbearable.

"Rory, Vick, come on! Bye, mom." I say in a slightly raised voice, walking out the door. Rory and Vick scramble to catch up with me. Once they're on either side of me, they slow down to a fast walk, using long strides to keep up with me.

"Did you bring back-" Rory starts, but the next words get caught in his throat as he catches my glare. Vick walks over and whispers something in his ear.

"Oh… oops." He says quietly, voice a bit strained. Katniss brings back the food right after a trip, I just get some of it; I haven't set any traps before the ones this morning, so I have nothing until this afternoon, after school. Maybe.

"Our lunches have the last of the bread and meat. We'll have more tonight, I hope." My voice isn't cold, but it's not warm either, it's completely devoid of emotion. I'm proud of myself for that.

We walk in silence for a while, until the school building comes into sight and Vick asks a question.

"Do you think she'll come back?" He asks, looking at me a little desperately. I feel sorry for him; her being gone isn't doing anything to him compared to me, but he's not much older than Prim, losing someone close is hard on him.

"She got an _eleven_ in training, she was the most talked about after the reaping for saving Prim, she was ogled at by every male throughout all of Panem, she…" I trail off because my voice is at the verge of breaking, I wait a couple seconds before continuing. "She knows how to hunt, she can snap _fishing line_ with an arrow, she knows how to survive in the wild…" Another few seconds, I try to breath evenly, but it's slightly faster than it should be. "I taught her how to set snares, I taught her the best way to clean a piece of meat…" I'm fighting tears now, every little confidence I have in her making it's way out right now. My voice is threatening to break, but I _need _to finish. "She knows how to play these Games, she's cunning, she's resourceful, she's intelligent, she's very instinctual, she's beautiful…" Now I'm breathing heavy, and my words are a rush. "I think she has a chance." The last syllable falters slightly. I just prevent myself from cursing out loud.

Vick and Rory stop in their tracks when they hear my voice crack. They have tears in their eyes, one falls down Rory's cheek. He angrily swipes it away. Vick sniffs and wipes his eyes before any moisture falls; his cheeks are slightly flushed when he addresses me.

"How come this doesn't bother you? She's the _only_ friend you have; you guys love each other like family! She's just the friend of my brother to me-" His words come to a halt as he looks into my eyes and stumbles. He almost falls, but Rory catches him. When Rory looks up, he flinches and falls a step back. They both look terrified.

I didn't _feel_ my eyes burn into a glare, a fiercely glowing grey. I didn't _feel_ the blood rush to my cheeks like a raging fire or my lips part to reveal clenched teeth. I didn't_ feel_ my fists clench until my knuckles turned white and my body stiffen in it's tracks, but seeing my brothers reaction snaps me back into focus. They look like they're looking at their own deaths. I slowly become aware of what I must look like, I don't even know how long I've been in this position. I suck in a long, uneven breath and unclench my fists, loosening the muscles in my body. I hold my hand to my face and focus on breathing until the blood leaves my cheeks and my mouth relaxes. I shut my eyes and open them again, fixing a shallow gaze on my brothers.

"Sorry." It's a little strangled and all I can get through my teeth, but I truly am sorry I scared them. They meet my eyes, and now surprise raises their eyebrows and drops their jaws into a gape.

My brothers are speechless.

"What?" I say as casually as I can, willing them to forget about what just happened. They drop their eyes to the ground. I move forward, thankful that they dropped it. If I can't keep a composed face here, can I stay calm whe-_if_ she dies?

No. No, I can't. But I'll have to.

When we finally get to the school doors, Vick brushes against me on his way by and Rory meets my eyes briefly, nodding his head slightly before he follows his other brother. I watch them for a couple of seconds before turning to go to my locker.

Walking through the school, I hear giggles and whispers by passing girls. Most of them are looking at me with hopeful expressions, only a few of them show sympathy, and even those girls giggle a bit when they pass. It's the usual trouble I have, but magnified. Many of them are giving me looks meant to look "sexy" or "inviting." I don't hold their gaze long enough to tell, I look away the second I meet their eyes. Others try to walk beside me or shoot me smiles. Whenever someone tries to talk, I figure out what they want to say, and if it's anything to do with the usual, I tune them out until they see that I'm not listening and walk away. I pass one group, sitting on the floor in a circle.

"I dare you kiss Hawthorne." Whispers one of the younger ones, not yet practiced in the art of not being heard. A girl around the age of fourteen, dark brown hair, olive skin, and hazel eyes, turns around, and when she sees me, a brilliant blush blooms in her cheeks. I look away as quickly as I can and increase my pace before she gets any ideas.

Why can't I make Katniss blush like that?

I walk into view of my locker to find two girls, both in my age group, glaring at each other from opposite sides of my locker. A group of giggling girls of all ages are flocked behind each one. There is no way to get to my locker without getting in the middle of this. Literally. I sigh and walk forward anyway. I have to get my books and leave, that's all; maybe they _won't_ notice me. It looks like they're pretty concentrated.

Once I get about five feet away though, the girls break their glare. One of them, her hair a rich caramel color and her eyes a bright, deep green against olive skin, leans back against the locker next to mine and flashes me what looks like a smile meant to be alluring. The other one, I've noticed before. She's blonde with grey eyes and light skin. She has family from a richer part of 12 and sits next to me in about three classes. She refuses to leave me alone.

The two groups behind them go completely silent.

The green-eyed one seems to be trying to work up a nerve. The blonde one, Awuor, has already introduced herself to me, and thus, I know her name. She isn't afraid, and takes her chance swiftly.

"Hi. I'm sorry about Katniss." She begins, smiling with false sympathy. I cannot believe that they _dare_ use what might be Katniss' death to try to claim me. It hurts so much that she isn't here with me right now to keep them away, that I almost welcome the anger, so as to cover up those longings.

"No you're not." I say shortly, sliding my eyes over to glare at her. I turn back to my locker and look at the seven textbooks resting there. The ones I need for my first three classes are at the bottom. I slide them out and, holding them on my side, start walking toward class.

But she follows me, as expected. Her fan club scuttles forward behind her. The other girl walks on my other side, her crowd also following her. Eyes follow us and several girls break off to hear the conversation. I don't miss the jealous glares from single guys and even those who _are_ dating.

"She was young, wasn't she? Only sixteen. She isn't even old enough to share your classes."

"Yes. But at least she _acts_ like an adult. There are reasons why she's my friend." My voice is frigid and my pointed look added the '_and you're not_' to the end of my sentence.

"Well it's sad that she's gone now." I have to catch myself as my hand starts to gather into a fist. I nearly snap at the sarcasm in her voice. "I could help cheer you up…." The look in her eyes repulses me. Excited squeals and loud giggles rise in the group behind her.

"Yeah, it is sad that she's gone. I really wish that it was your name on the slip that Effie pulled out of that bowl, instead. If only it were someone like you, someone who takes advantage of other peoples _murders_! How can all of you live with yourselves for that?" I ask, my voice rising. "Well, at least you were decent enough to not take advantage of everybody _else's_ death! The only friend I ever had is gone now. The only person that would _care_ if I got hurt, angry, depressed, anything! Every single one of you would brush it off and wait until you get the next chance to ask me out! Of course I'll reject you! My friend is all I need; I don't matter to anyone else. Nobody else cares about her either, I guess. We really _do_ only have each other." I realize I've stopped moving then, but I'm to angry to do anything about it. "None of you would really care if I died. Look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong." I say, rage boiling. I see Awuor's expression, now extremely guilty instead of confident; she has tears falling down her cheeks by the time I'm finished. "Please leave me alone, and take your fan club with you." I mumble, my voice just a rush of breath. I'm so tired. Tired of having to act untouched, like this hasn't taken away everything I've ever had. Tired of having to keep everything in when I think about her. Awuor's dipped head looks up slightly and she bites her lip slightly at my sudden change in tone.

"I… I'm so… sorry. Really, this time." She chokes out, meeting my eyes with true sincerity. I let out a breath as she walks away, sweeping my gaze over everybody in her group until they scuttle away too. I lean against the nearest locker and close my eyes, breathing deeply.

"Do I need to say anything?" I ask, opening my eyes again, looking at the ceiling. There's a pause before I get a response from the other girl, as if it takes her a moment to realize I'm talking to her.

"My name is Medeia… most people call me Em. I… I was here for the exact same reason as she was but I… realize that you're right. It's wrong. I'm sorry." She says, walking away on the last word. I realize that her group already left, and the halls are thinning out. I hurry to my class, ignoring the whisperings all around me as I go.

I get to class not a second before the bell rings. I sit down and pull out the book that we use first every morning and my carved out piece of mulch. I can't risk a knife here, so I use a toothpick to scratch at it. At home, I'll occasionally pull it out and work on it, at school, I use a toothpick to carve out smaller detail to carve later. I use it as something to do as I faintly listen to what's being said, what with most of my classes consisting of lectures having to do with coal.

"Gale, I'm glad you could get here on time," Our Peacekeeper-Teacher says. Katniss and I don't sell anything to him; he refuses us. He hates us for hunting, although he won't take action because the other Peacekeepers won't. So, because of him, this class is a misery. "I'm sorry about your little friend, but it's about time someone from a family such as _yours_ got reaped." He's referring to our need to rely on each other, and everyone in the Seam knows about the only families that hunt in that "wretched" forest.

"Yes, I know. It is about time; Katniss is probably so thrilled that someone from our families finally got the _honor_ of being Tribute. Do you know what I think, though? I think that it's better that Katniss left instead of her _little sister_ who is only _twelve years old_. I'm proud to be the friend of someone who volunteered for a little girl instead of hanging back and watching her get taken away like everybody else does." I say, my voice heavy with sarcasm in an attempt to keep from screaming. "Besides," I add pleasantly, "she's only another murder case."

"Are you trying to be smart with me, _child?_"

"The eighteen year old child says no. I'm just saying that I _completely_ agree that it's good news that that sixteen-year-old got sent off to what might be her death." I say in the same tone. "As long as it isn't _your_ family, which it _can't _be, everything's fine, right?"

He doesn't say anything. My words aren't being controlled, and I know I'll be punished, but I can't get whipped for this. I can't even get publicly abused. However, he can do anything he wants to me in this classroom. He picks up his ruler. There is no hesitation as he brings it down hard across my fingers. I don't flinch, even as the other students wince at me. He brings it down on my arm next, but it's nothing compared to what I'm already feeling. When I don't respond, he holds it up high and whips it across my cheek. I feel the burning, and I know that there's a bright red bruise there, but I don't move. It's almost a distraction from my other pains, and I can see why people would hurt themselves after going through what I'm going through now. I'd never do that to myself though, no matter how distracting in might be.

I have to be strong.

He throws down the ruler and grabs a pair of scissors; he slides the sharp point down the skin of my arm- starting at my shoulder, cutting through my shirt sleeve- as he speaks.

"You do not talk back to me. You are a child and I am an adult. You are worthless workers, we are important leaders." The long cut down my arm is bleeding freely, but it's no worse that walking through brambles in the forest.

"It is as you say, my lord." I say, not bothering to hide the mockery in my tone and not reacting as the scissors continue onto my hand and up my finger. "Hazelle's going to be angry that you cut my shirt; she's going to kill me."

He backs up and throws the scissors at my face in frustration. I reach up a hand to catch them, and I do. The blades slice through the skin of my palm, but at least I have them in my hand and not in my eye. I get up and walk past the Peacekeeper, expressionless, and set them on the desk. Once I'm in front of him again, where he can't see my face, I roll my eyes at the students. A couple kids' eyes widen. Some of them let out a dry chuckle. I sit down and rip off part of my sleeve, I use it to dab the blood off of the wound, pressing it down hard.

"Sorry if I get a little blood on the books. Please carry on, so sorry for the interruption." I say, my voice perfectly even, even a little concerned at the part about his books. I'm actually having a little fun, I have a lot of scars, and this scratch won't even leave one, he doesn't have a chance at causing me pain. He'll need a knife, not a sad pair of dullish scissors.

"This is what happens, class, if you talk back to a teacher."

"Yes. And it looks very painful, too. Look at Gale! He looks like he's going to burst into tears at any second. Let's make this a game! Every person who says something gets a scar to bring home!" Says a girl named Kelsa. She feels the same way about the Capitol as I do, she's one of the people that I'll actually greet or briefly exchange conversation with occasionally. The teacher heads in her direction, but I save her by jumping in again.

"Ah, it's not that great. This won't even leave a scar, only a shallow scratch and a damaged shirt. Hey, Mr. Ahriman? Can we start class now? Knowledge is very important when you're striving for the occupation of 'coal miner.'" A lot of the class laughs, even though it's not really all that funny. Only a few people kept their mouths shut, smothering smiles behind their hands in the back of the class. Trying to go unnoticed. It's pretty sad that they'll laugh at something as low as my personal humor.

The Peacekeeper seems to give up and goes back to his lesson, he starts talking about coal again as I go back to carving. My little bow is really coming along. I've been using my toothpick to cut down the wood in the string as thin as possible. The arrow across it sticks out though, looking fat against the thinner wood of the "string." I'll fix that later. A couple people look over at it. I ignore them and continued working, Mr. Ahriman's words faintly lodging themselves in my memory.

Lunch comes sooner than usual, I sit through several classes, focusing hard to keep quiet and keep my snide comments to myself. After that first class, several people had flocked me and talked in a rush about how cool my mini rebellion was. I'd ignored them; there was nothing 'cool' about it, and the company they were giving me was aggravating.

Several girls try to join me for lunch, but they all get onto the topic of Katniss or... well... me. Me, and then herself, and then both of us. I glare at them until they get up and move. Kelsa joins me two minutes in, after I'd already sent several girls away. I study her for a moment, trying to sense her intent.

"Tell me what you're here to talk about."

"I don't know. Eat. Sit. Nothing really." She shrugs and I glance at her gratefully.

"Thank you." I say, "You're not one of _them_." I add, throwing a hand in the air and gesturing to where most of the girls are crowded. She nods a little bit, smiling.

"Since Katniss left, girls keep trying to ask you out; I couldn't help but notice. I'm hoping I can fill her role 'protecting you' until she gets back." She continues, she doesn't know how much of a difference it makes that she used 'until she gets back' instead of 'because she's gone.' "You're already sitting at the end of a table so if I sit on the other side of you, no one else can." She says, sitting there. It's nice that she's doing this for me. I welcome her 'protection.'

A large TV flicks on at the front of the lunchroom, and I look toward the very back row where Prim is sitting somewhere. I can't find her, but I know she's probably looking up from her lunch and frowning. The TV turns on to show the row of announcers filling the screen. Lyle starts off.

"These replays go to the older schools right? And age groups go up to, like, eighteen?" He asks. I'm suddenly very glad that Prim recently joined the older school. Kids below the age of twelve go to a smaller building near this one, but now that Prim is at this school, I can be here for her. The Peacekeepers trying to quiet her would only make her more upset if anything were to happen...

"Yes." The purple skinned, golden eye-browed woman says, warily. "And ranges down to the age of twelve. Lyle, watch yourself." She says, and I realize that the woman that usually sits to Lyle's right is sitting on the end, furthest from him.

"Ah, whatever. That limits what I can say, but 12? Your chick tribute is hot!" He laughs, looking into the camera. Several boys let out a hoot and I realize that my hand is clutching the table so hard that I'm starting to lose feeling in my hand. I can feel Kelsa's eyes on me.

"We have a surprise for you today!" The oldest man says.

"It was awesome, you're going to see-"

"Shut up Lyle, they _will_ see." The woman who used to sit by him growls.

The scene changes to the arena and they start flipping through different main events.

It starts with what I've already seen, the whole episode where Peeta shows up as a Career and Katniss comes out of the tree and smiles. This is probably the 'surprise' the announcers mentioned. Everybody gasps and they start talking excitedly amongst themselves, Katniss was there, she heard Peeta with the Careers. She knows they're after her, and she's ready for it. I hear someone shout, "She's going to go far!" There are laughs of relief and surprise... and some muffled cries.

A lot of people are still walking, nothing much is happening. The camera switches from Peeta to Katniss. Peeta looks emotionless, giving the message that he's unfeeling and brave, that he never loved Katniss in the first place. Katniss is guarded, she looks unaffected as well, and this doesn't fail to delight me. _She doesn't love him, she never loved him, she never felt anything for him._ They both seem to look the same about the whole thing, like nothing happened. All is peaceful, so the camera switches to Katniss, the only one really struggling.

My stomach contracts as I see that she's dehydrated. I can tell, because whenever she is, she'll start looking a little strained as she tries not to pant. Her face is screwed up in concentration as she pulls herself forward, she's trying not to look weak. She's forcing herself to look strong, like I have to be.

Later in the day, she takes down a rabbit, and though it's not water, it's still essential in these Games.

_But it's not shot through the eye._

This terrifies me.

She's tiring, and she can't find water. I notice my breathing growing heavy and focus on calming it. I feel faint, as if the anxiety is a physical force pressing down on my lungs, making every breath harder. She starts trudging most of the way. She finds the camp of the tribute that was recently killed by Peeta, and although it's wrong, I can't help but be thankful for the girl's death because of this. Katniss makes a fire out of the already hot embers to cook her rabbit, she starts to eat it as she walks. She eventually covers her lips in rabbit grease, telling me that she's really low on fluids. I hear a lot of girls make gagging noises.

I roll my eyes; most of them would be dead by now. Killed easily by even a tribute like Rue.

If only it _was_ one of them.

I see her face perk up and sit up a little straighter. I finally notice what caught her eye. There, berry bushes in the distance. I let out a breath as she hurries forward, stripping the bushes of their fruits, that sweet liquid must have saved her. They look like blueberries. Once she's about to shove one into her mouth though, she pauses. She takes a moment to look at it closer. I involuntarily lean forward and squint. No, they aren't blueberries; they're less rounded. She breaks one open, and the camera zooms in to show the blood-red insides of the berry. I hear so many gasps and cries of surprise from the students, but I'm utterly silent, staring numbly at the berries in her hands. All of these students would have eaten that berry. But Katniss didn't. Their horrified cries are all for the fact that their female tribute was almost killed.

Almost killed.

Killed by a berry.

Anything could kill her. Anything.

"Oh, dear God…" I finally gasp out, the events finally registering in my brain. Before I can try to control my actions, I'm leaning back and holding a hand to my face. "Almost killed." I whisper to myself. Kelsa shivers once as I suck in a ragged breath, trying to compose myself again.

Katniss continues walking until she's stumbling, resting every few minutes, barely making any progress at all. The camera flashes around to catch the other tributes, the Careers are living it up by the lake, Rue's in a tree eating some herbs, the girl from five is drinking from a small stream, only a trickle of water running through it. The others are all doing well, most of them having gotten to water by some means. Only a few are struggling for food.

I realize that I haven't eaten any lunch yet and pick up a chunk of cooked meat. I start munching on it. That's all that's happened today of real importance, Katniss is on the brink of dying from dehydration. She _will not_ die like this. She'll find water; she'll find water and drink enough to save herself.

At least that's what I'm trying to believe.

The camera meets the announcers again, and Lyle is smiling.

"So what happened to the star-crossed lovers? Sabotage! Peeta looked pretty sure that he has her in his trap, didn't he? But Katniss caught him red-handed! Literally!" He chuckles at his private joke. "Looks like she's single again!" He adds, winking at the camera. My hand unconsciously moves to my hair. I clutch at it, trying to stay quiet and erase my expression. I look up after a few strangled moments, my expression as blank as I can manage to keep it.

"I don't know Lyle… she looks like she might be done for if she doesn't find water soon." Says the purple skinned lady.

"I think you're right Magnolia. I can't wait to see the look on her face when she realizes she's not as perfect as she thought she was." _Jealousy is a very petty emotion… I would know._ She wants Katniss dead just because Lyle wants her alive.

"Shut up, Dianne. Katniss can make it through this; she'll find water. Then, when she wins, I could-"

"Lyle." A man who appears to be in his mid-twenties warns. "I'm not positive of what you were about to say, but I want to make sure that it's not-"

"Ask her parents if I may have the pleasure of _meeting_ her." He finishes sarcastically, winking at the screen again. Oh, what I would give to strangle him.

"I swear if he gets anywhere _near _her-" I growl to myself. Realizing that I'm in school, I stop mid-sentence, glad that I was barely whispering in the first place. I see Kelsa glance at me, eyebrows raised.

I don't explain myself to her, too preoccupied trying as hard at I can to not do anything rash. She turns back to the screen, deciding to leave me alone; the camera is on Claudius Templesmith.

"Peeta looks awfully emotionless. He's not smiling, but he's not really frowning; he's just following his alliance. Could he be upset that he has to give her up to keep the alliance? Has he been planning this all along? Is he heartbroken? It's impossible to tell." He says, smiling, as usual. "Katniss seems like she's perfectly fine with all of this. I saw that smile! Did she _ever_ feel for him? Is she scared of him and that pack of beasts? Is she confident that she can stay away from them? Is she only acting for the cameras? This is a little easier to piece together. I think she's surprised. She couldn't have seen this coming. Then she seemed to forget about the whole thing, as if she's untouched by it. But could she have locked it up in the back of her mind so she can focus on staying hydrated? Either way, that's one tough tribute!" He finishes, moving on to talk about the others.

I shut out everything else as I try to think through Katniss' situation. She probably has enough energy and fluids to keep her searching throughout one more day, she should be able to last tonight and a good while tomorrow, but I don't know if she can last much longer after that. She's heading down hill, a smart direction to travel if you're looking for water. And she recently caught a rabbit. That rabbit wouldn't travel to far away from any water source, so that's another good sign that she's somewhere near water. But can she find it in time? She can only move at a steady pace for so long on limited hydration. It looks scorching hot in the arena, another disadvantage, the sun will cause her to sweat, that sweat will drain vital liquids. At night, it'll be freezing, as it was the night before. If that bag doesn't warm her enough, she'll shiver, shivering can be a lethal waste of energy if you're lacking in food or water. If she doesn't find any water by tomorrow... she might... no. No, she has sponsors. If she doesn't have sponsors, than the Capitol is even more senseless than I though them to be. They should never be underestimated when it comes to stupidity. But she should at least have _one_. Everybody loved her, she got an _eleven_.

Haymitch can't go unconscious forever. So why isn't he sending her anything? Is he keeping it from her until she's desperate? Is he trying to tell her that she doesn't need it, that she's close? Is he trying to build up her endurance? I have no idea. The possibilities and questions keep rushing through my mind like a whirlwind and I can't focus on any one thing. Only that Katniss is in danger. That she'll need to find water soon or... She'll _need_ to find water soon.

The TV switches off and we're shooed off to get our books for the next classes. I get up, taking the old carry-on sack I use to bring my lunch, with me. I nod once to Kelsa, whose locker is somewhere at the other side of the school, and head toward the hallway where I _hope_ my locker sits unaccompanied by any other students.

When my locker comes into sight, no girls surrounding it, I feel a small smile curl up onto my face. When I open it to find the book I need for my next class missing, that smile turns to a scowl. Of course, because I can't be left alone. I lean against the door and try to recall where it might have gone. I saw all of my books this morning, and when I put the three books for the classes before lunch away, it was there too. So what happened to it? It didn't just disappear. We don't have locks… but who would steal a schoolbook? I'm so confused by the question that I don't notice Medeia- Em- walking up to me with said book in her hands.

"Sorry, I needed to use it for my class, I left mine at home." She says, I glare at her with my eyebrow raised. Nobody brings books home, not even the students that really seem caught up in the lesson; much less someone like her.

"What? I didn't understand something." She protests when she sees my doubtful leer. I realize then that she's actually very pretty, especially when pouting. Her eyes are so deeply green that I can picture her as irresistible, looking through the eyes of some of the male students. But she has nothing on Katniss. Her shadowy eyes, somehow layered in different dark to light shades of grey, her long, strait black hair pulled into a braid, loose strands falling on the back of her neck and forehead… and on the rare occasions I see it let loose, fanning across her face, flowing down her neck… the way she moves with a grace that is uniquely her own…. It's incomparable. When Katniss pouts it actually burns through your heart, on the shockingly rare occasions that she does. Only very rarely is she not stared at by every male student here at some point of the day. Whenever I walk beside her, I feel the hateful glances at my back. Whenever I see Katniss walk past, I also see several eyes following her.

I shove those thoughts away before they start throbbing with an actual, physical agony. I try to focus on Medeia again. I know she stole my book because I would have to take it back. And I know she won't give it back without a fight.

"Okay, thanks for giving it back. So if I can just…" I reach out for the book that she has clutched against her chest, but she raises her eyebrows and leaves it there. I keep my hand in the air and wait.

"I was thinking about Katniss-"

"Well I'm trying not to, so if you'll just give me my book-"

"No. Listen." She says stubbornly. "You need to accept the truth that she's probably not going to last another day. You saw her! She's dehydrating fast. You're going to need to move on so that it doesn't hurt too badly when she dies," she says, putting artificial softness in her voice.

"You think I'm looking for someone? Well okay. Sure. You can believe that. I don't care. Please give me my book." I say evenly, trying not to choke on the truth of her words, so mercilessly thrown at me.

"Well… I'm single." She says, getting to the point.

"Oh, I'm sorry. How did he dump you? Why? Were you forcing him to talk to you by stealing his things? What? Did you make him so angry and upset because you wanted him to try to find comfort in you that he finally snapped out of it? I'm sorry he left you." I say coldly. "Although I understand him."

I reach out and grab her upper arm, pulling it forward. She desperately holds on to the book with her hand, but I use the hand that isn't gripping her arm to pull the book away. I meet her sullen gaze hostilely.

"Your attention grabbing methods are sad. It's pretty cunning of you, but pitiful that you have to stoop down to that." I say, turning back to my locker to get my last three books. She pouts again and walks away stiffly. I still hear giggling all around me, even after that.

Why is it, that I can be a complete and utter jerk to any girl I want to in front of the entire school and still be followed around? Why can't they take that as proof that I'm a horrible person who cares for no one, and leave me be? I can act as evil as I want and I still don't get repulsed glares at my back. I'm a bully and a lier that makes all the girls sad and causes some of them to cry, I have absolutely no sympathy or mercy. I rarely show emotion and no one here has seen my smile. Maybe once or twice when Katniss is around, but it's barely a grin when I'm at school. No one knows the me that hunts in the forest with Katniss. And that me isn't much better. So why do they keep pressing for me?

I continue through my classes, staying as quiet as I can. Not interrupting and not thinking about anything other that the words being said or the work being done, whether on my mulch carving or other. The day passes quickly, I try my best to ignore the girls that giggle and wave in the hallway, taking extra precaution at avoiding the ones who might be able to work up the nerve to approach me.

I see Prim in the hallway on the way to my fifth class. She has her back pressed against the wall and is surrounded by four kids that look like they're an age group or two ahead of her. I catch some of the conversation.

"Aw, did your sister get taken away? I heard that somewhere."

"Yeah, I heard it was _all your fault_."

"Looks like your sister's gone forever now."

"Did she love you? She must've if she volunteered for you. It's too bad that you let her die. What, were you too scared to go? Were you so afraid that you _wanted_ Katniss to volunteer? Just to save your own butt."

I force my advance forward into a stiff walk; I tower over all of them once I get close. I break through their circle and wrap my arm around Prim as she starts to cry into my shirt. I look at the boys in front of me, all of them looking at each other, a little confused at what they're seeing. I meet their eyes fiercely.

"Really? You guys came here to make Katniss' _little sister _cry? Do you realize that no matter what Prim tried to do, Katniss would have gone anyway?" I snarl, "How dare you tell her it was her fault!" I spit, angrily shoving them further away from Prim. "Get out of my sight." I say in a cold growl, walking back to Prim who has collapsed on the floor, choked sobs bursting from her chest, she's barely keeping the salty tears from falling. I move to sit next to her; I wait for her to quiet down, until her sobs finally wear down into choked breaths. She looks up, teary eyed.

"Don't listen to them. They're not worth your tears. You're braver, tougher, smarter... I could go on for a long time. You're everything they're not, and they're nothing worth being." Words of wisdom that I will have to remember for the future. But she's unconvinced.

"No I'm not! I'm scared! It _is_ my fault, she left because I was to afraid to interfere."

"No, she left because I didn't let you stop her. I knew that Katniss was going to volunteer; I knew that she wasn't going to stay. I was the one who pulled you off of her, remember?"

"But why?"

"I don't know." I say, telling the truth, no matter how horrible it is. "I should have taken you away because you're only twelve, but… I guess I'd given up, I knew there was nothing I could do. And I know that it's selfish, but I keep wishing that she hadn't volunteered." I sigh, letting my head fall back against the wall behind me.

"So do I." Prim says, agreeing with me. I just told her that I'd rather her die than have Katniss... leave, and she's _agreeing with me._

"I'm such a selfish jerk... If only I could have gone with her…" I say, but when I see the horrified look Prim is giving me, I backtrack quickly. "But I would never leave her family to starve, I promised her that." I get up without waiting for an answer. I just stop myself from saying that I would stay back again if Katniss were to be chosen twice, but that would be a lie, it wouldn't be the stupid, evil, selfish truth.

Luckily, no one can be chosen twice for the Games.

I take her hand and pull her up with me. "You'd better go before you're late for class. If anybody does that again, stare him down. Don't react to what they say, stand there and say that you're proud to be Katniss' sister." I demand, trying to give her some confidence. She smiles a little bit. "Now hurry up." I say nudging her a little bit. She doesn't move.

"Gale, you would break Katniss' heart if you killed yourself for her. She'd die anyway. You can never, _ever_ think about doing that to your family, Katniss, and me. It would kill all of us, Gale. You're not just a hunter, you're family, _and Katniss loves you_." She tries to convince me before finally complying to my previous coax to hurry along. I stare at her retreating figure, not sure if I'm shocked or delighted at her words. Shocked at the idea of my death hurting Katniss the same way it would hurt me, or delighted that Prim is so sure that Katniss feels that way I do. I finally head in the opposite direction, shaking my head to clear it. I never feel emotions like this, and now that I am, I can't understand them at all. I can't make sense of my own thoughts anymore.

The braver girls greet me constantly on my way. I ignore them and keep going. Now that Katniss is gone, so many people are taking chances with me, and I'm figuring out how popular I really am with these girls. Like Kelsa said earlier, Katniss protects me from all of this. She makes it look like I'm taken. I always get asked if I'm dating her, and I always tell the truth: no. They never seemed to believe me, even though they still asked me out. Now that Katniss isn't here, I can't stay alone. I'm always being followed. Everyone else seems to take the relationship I had with Katniss as a romantic one. I remember talking to her here everyday, seeing her in the hallway. She'd smile and nod a hello and continue on her way. After school, I'd hunt with her and we'd bring back food. We'd spend time in the forest and talk about random topics, some of them pointless, some of them important. We'd trusted each other with everything; there isn't one thing about Katniss that I don't know, except her feelings toward me. I know now what I feel, but I don't know her side of it. She thinks of us as best friends but more, as I used to think, but does she really feel more than that, like I do? Is that a secret that she's kept from me? I'm probably being too hopeful for my own good, making up fanciful dreams. I don't know.

I seem to be able to catch the attention of any girl at this school. I could probably charm anyone I want into falling for me, considering the number of flirtatious giggles and comments I get as I walk though the halls. Could I do that to Katniss? I don't think so. She's different from everyone else; she never flirts. Not with anyone. Katniss is just impossible. She's impossible to understand, even though I know everything about her. She's impossible to talk about without a painful jab to the chest. She's impossible to talk to without a struggle to stay casual. She's impossible to appeal to.

She's impossible not to fall for.

How did this happen to me? I've been trying to avoid all of the girls I know for as long as I can remember, taking shelter with Katniss, the only girl who has never tried to take me. Now, the only girl I want is the one I can't have. I don't know what it would feel like to tell her all of this. I don't know what it would feel like to hold her in my arms as something more than what we are. I don't know what it would feel like if we were what the other students thought we were.

I don't know if she loves me.

The worst part... is that I might never know.

I might lose her before I get the chance to find out.

* * *

_**GANGSTA!**_

**Did you look up what the names mean? Kelsa? Medeia? Awuor? Ahriman? I've been totally obsessed with names lately! They all mean things and if you looked them up than you have just earned my congratulations. If you haven't, do it now!**

**MY VERSION OF PRIM REMINDS ME OF ANGEL FROM MAXIMUM RIDE!**

**I am one of the people that would take a schoolbook home in District 12!**

**I shall answer Gale's question: So why do they keep pressing for me? Answer: He is the complete opposite of every little thing he just said... **_**on the inside**_**. **_**Plus, **_**he's to freaking modest to realize that. He thinks absolutely nothing of himself. There are reasons why he is one of the characters in a book that I've read that I have a crush on. That's right. Don't pretend that you don't have a crush on a character! ADMIT IT!**

**Who has read "Lament" and "Ballad" by Maggie Steifvater? If you did, did you think of the fey when Gale said: "Thank you. You're not one of **_**them." **_**Because I did. After I wrote it.**

**When Gale talked to his brothers about Katniss' chances, I was reminded of Maximum Ride, and for the people who haven't read to book 3, I will keep this vague so I can still tell the people who have. But the chip? The Valium? Mrs. Martinez's house? Then later Fang said something in the air that made Max angry and she dived down to the crowd Flyboys? Yeah. For some reason this reminded me of what Fang said in the air and what Max said with the Valium. I wanted to slap her when Max started spitting that out! But I was laughing like a maniac too, so...**

**REVIEW! Don't you like it when you get reviews? I just want to know what you think. Review me with your music theme songs for characters if nothing else!**

**REVIEW! TELL ME YOUR OPINION! WHAT DID WHAT DID I DO WRONG? WHAT DID I DO RIGHT?**

**CRITIQUE WANTED!**


	11. Surrender

**Hi. Sup. Hello. Y hola para todos los hispanohablantes que ven o leen mi historia. Lo siento si mi gramatica esta malo, no puedo usar acento marcas tampoco. Es genial que uds. estan aqui. Gracias.**

**Sorry I always take so long. I just do. I check it over and over again, and I end up taking forever.**

**Thanks for all of your reviews!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, I don't own the characters, The only Hunger Games I own isn't even The Hunger Games (which I'm borrowing from a person most of you shouldn't know), but Catching Fire, and I don't even own any writing, dialogue, characters, plot, setting... only a copy of the book! That's all owned by Suzanne Collins.**

**I can't figure out how to make an extra space, you know, to show that there is a break in time. You can probably see where I mean to put them though.**

* * *

She still hasn't found water by the time school ends. She's probably still stumbling through the forest, resting every few minutes, weakened from lack of hydration. I'm a hard sprint, taking no chances in being late because of being too slow to get to my snares. My time is limited; the cameras will switch on soon. If something is happening right now, I'm in a lot of trouble already. Hopefully all will be quiet when I get home, the arena calm and the cameras that make sure we're watching off, like it was just a couple minutes ago, at the school. But I'm not taking chances by being lazy.

As I run, I think of how many people I need to satisfy, Hazelle, Mrs. Everdeen, Vick, Rory, Posy, Prim, and myself. They will be going to bed starving on some nights.

But why did I ever need Katniss in the first place? It wouldn't be a problem if I were only hunting for _my _family. She might have helped my larger family eat a little more than what I could supply alone, but… we were surviving. So why did I agree to have her as my hunting partner if I didn't really need help? Was it because of her bow, because I wanted an archery lesson? Or was it because I knew immediately how similar we were? She didn't smile. She didn't laugh. The only things in her eyes were the surprise at finding me, and determination. She was breaking the law, risking her life, to feed her family. And from a younger age even than me. Is that what formed our friendship? No, I would have threatened anyone away from my snares, carrying a weapon or no. I'd do that now. I might give someone like Kelsa a little leeway, but I'd still tell her to leave. Maybe I stayed with her because she was different. And not only was she beautiful, but fierce, devoted to feeding her family, there was something about her that convinced me that she was… right. She was rare and beautiful on the inside and out. But wouldn't I have noticed her stick out through the crowd at school, beforehand?

I guess I just passed her by, with the naïve thought that she was just like everyone else. I wasn't observant enough to notice her, shyly keeping to the background.

But the day I met her, something inside me, something I failed to notice, must have attached to her, something that caused me to unconsciously move closer and closer to her over time. I was falling in love with her, something I'm no longer afraid to admit to myself. I should have noticed, but I didn't want to believe it, so I chose to ignore it, however unconsciously. Why did this have to happen to me? Life could have been so simple. I wouldn't be fighting harder than ever right now to look indifferent; I wouldn't be responsible for two extra mouths. I know that she would have done the same thing for me. She would have given her life to keep our families alive. Nearly starve if it meant keeping them reasonably fed… if I were gone. She would be working as hard as me. But that's just it.

She doesn't have to.

Instead, she left me wishing I could be her, wishing I could be in that arena, wishing that I could go up against twenty-three other bloodthirsty tributes. Wishing that I could have volunteered for her, kept her safe at home, alive. Who would wish for that? Only me, so strongly tied to her.

A girl that might not even feel the same way, and I'd kill myself for her.

Why?

I don't know. I was never my choice.

I finally make it to the clearing, only to find two successful traps. Two rabbits. That's not enough to last one night. I can trade one for two small loaves of bread… but that's the best I can do. We need protein, so I'm keeping one rabbit. I'll keep those snares set and check them later; I'll try to shoot some arrows in the morning. I head home carrying my rabbits on my belt. They could have more if…

No, if I don't eat they don't have a hunter. But I can always take less.

Thoughts of a food shortage lead my mind toward the Games. Before long, I'm thinking of this morning, of Katniss seeing the Careers.

She'll need an ally soon, not a group like the Careers, but one or two people she can rely on. But if Katniss grows too attached… _when _Katniss grows too attached to her ally, how will she kill him or her? She probably won't. They'll break the alliance before it comes to that… if it comes to that.

But it wouldn't, would it? Katniss has enough sense to leave any ally that she would resent killing if the end starts looming in on them. She wouldn't be able to stand killing that Rue girl, that I'm sure of, and she'd be hesitant about the younger ones, especially if they were injured. Katniss wouldn't form an alliance with anybody wounded, though, would she? I suppose that if she chose to cure them, which, depending on the situation, she may very well be able to do, she would already have formed something of an alliance without realizing it.

And, I have to admit to myself, she might actually have trouble killing Peeta. Whether she was told to or not, she's already spent time with him in front of the cameras. When she walked out in the opening ceremony, clutching his hand, she looked thankful for it. Whenever we were watching before the real Games started, she would be glued to his side, and though we weren't permitted to see most of the training, whenever it showed her, Peeta was close by. It looks as if neither of them ever felt a thing for each other _now_, but... I can't help but wonder. If they ever _did_ feel anything, if Katniss ever did, she could be seriously hurt right now.

And knowing that he could hurt her that way, hurts me.

Everything seems to hurt me now. It was only a few days ago that nothing seemed to touch me.

I walk home, trying to stop thinking these things by focusing on my footing, moving as silently as is possible in my skill.

"Gale!" Hazelle says, exasperated. "How dare you ruin your shirt? You of all people know that we can't afford anything more!" This is the reaction my cut gets. Prim and Kelsa ignored it, Vick and Rory ignored it. Everybody ignored it. They've gotten used to my commonly received scratches, scars, and even bite marks. The same goes with Katniss, although she usually avoids the bite marks. Even my own mother doesn't really care that I was sliced along the arm with a pair of scissors, stabbed in the hand with them. They've all come to learn that I get these injuries often enough not to care about them anymore. Only my mother gets onto me about my clothes, and Mrs. Everdeen about my health if it's something potentially lethal, which it never really has been, or if it's bleeding at a dangerous rate.

Nothing important is happening in the Games, so I never needed to hurry home after all. Great.

"What did you do this time? What animal did you choose to aggravate?"

"Ahriman." I answer, evenly. She raises an eyebrow.

"Okay... and what was his weapon of choice?" She asks, curiously running her finger down the line of dried blood.

"Scissors. Dull ones; they couldn't cut deep. This will be gone without a trace in a few days. It's already stopped bleeding."

"And why did he attempt to maim you with an old pair of scissors?"

"He made me angry, and I ended up making him angry."

"How?"

"Why must you ask? He's a Peacekeeper."

She purses her lips and nods, not pushing the subject any farther. Why would she need to? The shirt is still wearable. He didn't attempt to stab me in the chest. Not yet anyway. That would be an inconvenient place to have a tear in my shirt.

The action in the arena hasn't picked up. The Gamemakers usually don't interfere until a couple days after the first. So right now, they're letting us go on about our business until they make our TVs burst into an alarm, ordering us to watch. Right now, Katniss is still walking. Still unharmed, but still vulnerable.

I start cleaning the meat for something to do; I can also make sure to divide the food by my standards if I do this. One rabbit split between seven people. It's not going to be exactly fair, but I will split the meat on account of who can handle the least amount. Hazelle and Mrs. Everdeen get the smallest portions; they're adults. I give Posy, Prim, Vick, and Rory the rest, split evenly between all of them; they're younger. I'm not going to eat any of the meat. I take one slice off of one of the small bread loaves and spread it with a bit of goat cheese. The rest of the bread goes to the others. two small slices each with as much goat cheese as I can risk using. Hazelle doesn't interfere as I cook the meat and basically prepare the entire meal.

"Um… Gale?"

Well, she _was_ not interfering.

"Yes?"

She pauses for a moment and looks upward in thought.

"It's Katniss." My breath gets caught in my throat. I let it out with a pretended casual manner. I glance up at her expectantly, as if I'm waiting for her to continue; underneath my patient expression I'm really hoping she'll give up and leave. She's testing me. I have to make sure that I look like I'm over her. Like she was just my friend.

"It's pretty sad making a meal for seven instead of eight." She says, with what seems like a genuine look of sorrow. I can't think of a response. I shrug.

"You miss her?"

"Of course I do. She's my best friend." I barely hear my change in tone at friend, so I doubt she does. I put a frown on my face. Holding back everything is hard, trying to show it understated is harder.

"What did you think of her costume?"

"She was beautiful." The matter-of-fact tone I try to use falters a bit. I bite back a curse. I look somewhere else so the fury in my eyes doesn't show. I start creating answers to any question that she might ask so that I'm ready with a reasonable response that she might believe.

"Well, Lyle seemed to think so." I can help the clenching of my teeth, but I manage to keep it at that.

"He's not the only one. You should see the eyes following her around at school." I say, using a ready-made response. "She never seems to notice." I add, spreading the goat cheese over the slices of bread, my own slice only holding a thin sliver.

"She only notices you," she remarks. I don't answer. I can't answer. I'm occupied, basking in the truth of it, and trying to keep it to myself. I forget to move my hands for a moment, pausing mid-slice. I hastily finish the cut.

"Did you know that Vick and Rory are upset that they never get any attention at school?" She asks, leaning on the table. She absent-mindedly taps her fingers on the wood.

"No. I haven't noticed." I say, trying to predict where she's going with this.

"Yeah. They say that the only thing they're hearing these days is your name. I had to scold them about eavesdropping on the girls. They say that they're giggling over you even in _their_ grade."

I don't have to pretend for this one. "Oh, God, mom. It's horrible. You need to tell them that they're lucky to be left alone. I can't find a minute to myself. I'm followed everywhere. Two girls were having a _war_ at my locker. They brought their own personal armies!"

"Why more whispers than usual?"

"Well, _you_ should know that they think me and Katniss were dating. And now that she's gone, they keep coming at me!" The bread forgotten, I'm tense all over, my voice raised. I see Vick and Rory peering into the kitchen and glare at them until they slip away. "They're taking advantage of her… her…. They think she's not coming back and they're trying to claim me." I scramble for words at the end, I can't say it out loud, I can't even think about it. I take a breath and go back to cutting, all composure lost. Anger is better than sorrow. I concentrate on rebuilding my mask.

"You only seem to really pay attention to her too," she says, interrupting my feeble attempt at calm and destroying any progress I've made. She set me up. She picked around my answer, finding little bits of proof, and put them together, using them against me. Daring me to contradict it. I turn back to the food so she doesn't see my face, since I can't keep it still. Luckily, I have the excuse that used to be completely the truth.

"She's the only one not pressuring me for more than a friendship," I say simply. I'm trying not to lie, and so far, I'm keeping my answers honest, in portion.

"I can't help but think you regret accepting her as just that." She presses, in a low voice. I try to agree with her in a different way.

"We _are_ more than friends. We've spent years together; we would trust each other with our lives, we're just not what the school thinks we are." I say.

I put most of my focus on preparing the meals, leaving only a small amount of my attention for Hazelle. There's a determined fierceness in her tone now.

"Somehow, you've convinced the entire student body that you two are dating. You've been so silent, and you can barely talk about her. You two don't only hunt for us when you're in the forest, you spend to much time in there for only that. I heard you catch your breath when Katniss came out in ceremony and I watched you go completely still when she was being interviewed. Gale. You can't blame me for trying to put this all together." She's more observant than I thought. I show no sign of surprise at that though, like it makes no difference to me that she knows these things.

"Who else but my only friend would I spend time with at school? Nobody can accept the fact that a girl and a guy can be anything less than a romantic couple, especially in their school years. We don't only hunt in the forest. We talk; about food, ourselves, news, any topic that happens to come up. We don't see each other much at school except for lunch because we have different classes, and being friends, we find some other time. I'm really sad that she's gone, of course, and I never have anything to say." I pause a second, constructing my next words carefully. "And she's very pretty. I'm not going to deny that. She surprised me." I keep my voice casual, but I put a tinge of sadness in it so she isn't suspicious at my lack of the emotion.

"Why is she your friend?" She asks, again, rapidly changing subjects. I think through my response quickly before saying it.

"She's different from every one else. She doesn't try to pressure me. She's very kind, honest, and modest, though she doesn't really need to be, considering how many stares she gets. We both lost our fathers in the same mine explosion. And, well, she's very similar to me in personality. It took me a month to make her smile. Longer to make her laugh." And just because I'm angry at Hazelle right now, I add: "And she has the same kind of helpless family I do, a family that she has to feed because they can't feed themselves. She's a really good hunting partner." I remember the final sentence at the last second. "The mutual need to survive brought us together." This would be the appropriate reason to stay with Katniss, but I don't believe it was the only reason. Hazelle doesn't seem hurt by my insult. Her lips are twitching.

"So why wouldn't you be in love with her?"

I freeze. I have no idea what to say. I should have been more careful with my words. How could I have been such a fool? Desperate for something to say, I say the first thing that comes to mind.

"I'm not sure. She's just not the right person." She is the right person. To me anyway. I'd give anything for her to think the same, and I'm telling my mother the complete opposite. But sometimes lies are necessary. "I'm never going to get married and have children, anyway. There's no one I'm willing to marry, and having children would only give me more mouths to feed. Besides, I wouldn't want my children to be eligible for the Hunger Games." I add, hoping the logic in the words will convince her. But, will they? She has children.

I see Hazelle look up at the ceiling, considering something. She looks slightly undecided when she looks back to me, sympathy in her eyes.

"Gale. You know what's going to happen to her." She hesitates, as if still deciding whether or not to say more. I don't move, quickly locking myself still again. She'll live, she _will._ She has to, for me. I throw the knife I was previously using to cut the bread with a practiced hand, watching it stab dead center into the back of my chair, giving my fear an outlet. I glare at Hazelle, covering my fear with anger. Her eyes widen, and she shrinks into her chair.

"Why do I have to keep hearing this?" I ask, my voice a smooth, cold whisper, kept low so it doesn't break. The conflicting anger and fear create a red haze in my brain, and I can't think, but after a moment of silence, I finally realize that she's cowering from _her own son_. I'm disgusted that I've made that possible. I take a breath and relax every muscle in my body, closing my eyes to clear them and easing the muscles in my jaw. I focus back on her. She's sitting, mouth agape, and eyes wide. Similar to what Vick and Rory looked like when I lost my anger with them.

"I'm sorry. I just get that too often. I can't stand it." I say slowly, cautiously. "I don't need to be reminded."

Hazelle doesn't say anything for a moment. She just stares. I can't figure out why they do that. First they're scared, then they're… aghast, surprised, amazed, it's a weird combination.

"You're _really_ good at that." She says, still breathing a bit quickly; her words come out in a rush of air. I just look at her blankly.

"That's what _we_ said!" Vick and Rory say, running into the room. I give them a hard stare.

"You didn't say anything."

"We weren't going tell _you_, it looked like you were about to kill us." _What?_ I look to my mother, slightly raising an eyebrow.

"I can't really argue with that." She says as Rory gives Posy to me. She looks confused, an anxious frown on her face as she watches me. She must have heard the anger in my voice if Rory was holding her while he listened to Hazelle and I. I shake away everything else so I can find a convincing smile to put on my face. A hesitant smile appears on her lips in response. I give her back to Rory.

"Wow."

"What?" I ask again.

"That. You looked like you were in a murder rage two minutes ago," Hazelle explains. Then she pauses, as if something's come to her mind. I roll my eyes and sigh, remembering that the food is still here. I'm done cutting the bread; the meat is separated as it should be, and it was cooked when I took it from Hazelle. I set it aside and turn my gaze on her.

"You never really smile at us do you? You just pretend, like you did with Posy." The sadness in her voice brings some truth out of me.

"…No." I admit. "Not really. I usually can't focus on things like jokes, but then when I'm not focused on anything besides them, I just don't-"

"Katniss makes you smile," she interrupts, smiling.

"She's my only friend. She knows what I laugh at, and she's not afraid of it."

"How long did it take her?"

"To do what?" I ask, fully aware of what she means. I'll stall for as long as I can.

"Get you to smile." She answers, patiently.

"She just finds the same things funny as I do." I can't keep dancing around this forever, but surly she'll declare my answer 'proof.' She waits, looking for a further answer.

"Why is it important?" She seems to drop it for now. Understanding that I'm not going to cooperate.

"When was the first time _you_ made _her_ smile?" She asks. I think for a moment, I remember the exact date, actually. I'd been trying to make her smile so hard that the day she finally did, I remembered my achievement. It took her even longer to laugh. I remember feeling so _open_ when she got me to smile before I got her to. I make my answer as vague as possible.

"I don't know, maybe a couple months after I met her." I say, shrugging. "Why does it matter?"

"Three days!"

"Maybe less!" Vick and Rory intervene, jumping out from where they seem to blend into the unnoticed background.

"Why do any of you care?" I ask, angrily.

"_Less!_" They say at the same time. I glare at them until they shudder.

"This isn't any of your business! She's my _friend. _Why do you keep trying to make me say it's more than that when it's not?"

"_The first day!_" They break in again; I pick up my knife and threaten it at them.

"You know that I know how to use this." I say. They laugh, although it's a little forced, and run into our room, shutting the door. I slump against the counter.

"So the first day you met her, she got you to smile?"

"You really take everything they say as a fact?" I don't answer her question. If I keep getting hounded like this I might have to leave and sleep in the forest just to keep Hazelle away from me.

"Are you telling me they're wrong?" She asks.

"Yes. What I don't understand is why it matters!" I hate lying to my mother, but lying is one of my best skills, and I use it when I need to. It has less to do with the words spoken than the tone of voice. Saying it like you honestly believe it's the truth or like it's completely obvious can throw them off.

She looks me over; I'm perfectly composed on the outside now. On the inside, I'm remembering that day, wishing it were then instead of now. Wishing that none of this ever happened, that I could still sit in the forest with Katniss and just talk. The regret bubbling inside of me is hard to restrain, but I'm doing a fair job of it. She can't see through me.

"I'm surprised that you're not… well, not… I don't know… that you can still hold yourself together and hide everything." She stutters. I frown a bit, what's the point of hiding everything if they know your hiding it? I turn my frown into one of confusion and try to dissuade her.

"Hide what?"

"You must be a wreck. You've lost your only friend." She puts faint sarcasm on _friend_. I feel my teeth clench behind my closed lips; I hope she doesn't notice. "You have to be letting out your sadness somehow. Everyone else did. The two other boys did. Mrs. Everdeen and I did. Prim did, and even Posy did, because Katniss doesn't see her anymore. We've all cried, and we still do. But I haven't seen you shed a single tear." She says, "And she means more to you than she does to us, no matter what you say." Many people would take the last sentence as an insult to Katniss, but I know she means that she does love her, just not like she thinks I do. I keep to my lies.

"No, she means more to Mrs. Everdeen and Prim. She's just my best friend. I'll be able to get over her." Not a word of truth. Hazelle doesn't think so either. She looks very sad all of the sudden, and her eyes meet mine. It's like she's really saying the words, but I have no clue why: _I'm sorry I have to go this far._

"Katniss is going to die, Gale." her voice cracks, but all that matters are the words. They stab at me, cut at me like daggers. I shy away, trying to deny it._ No she won't. No she won't. She'll make it and come home._ But it's not good enough.

"I'm done with the food." I say, miraculously keeping my voice from sounding strained. I walk out the door, looking over my shoulder. "I'm going to check my other snares."

Once the door shuts behind me, I feel all of the breath leave my lungs. For a second, I can't inhale at all anymore, and then I'm gulping air into my lungs as fast as I can. Keeping everything back is going to get painful. My chest hurts, my throat hurts, my head hurts. I'm walking as fast as I can to get past the people, hoping none of them see me and recognize me.

And of course, with the luck that I have, I see Prim heading toward me from her house, jogging to catch up. I stop, forcing everything in my body to go dead still. I stop breathing. I close my eyes. I could swear even my heart has stopped in it's tracks. All I do is focus on staying still. I hear Prim's footsteps and their pause in front of me. I take one deep breath and slowly open my eyes to look at her. She looks worried, I focus on that, her worried expression, and think about nothing else. But I know that I'll lose that focus soon.

"Prim, I'm going to the forest." I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Can I come?" She asks; I barely detect the desperate pleading in her voice. I want so much to tell her that she can, but I can't, even if she knows everything already.

"Prim, not right now." My voice has lost all of its subtle control and is strained with my effort to keep it from breaking.

"But I already know that you-"

"I'm sorry. _Not right now._ Please. Maybe later today."

"Are you-"

"_Please._" Broken. Not only does my voice crack, _I_ sound broken. She takes a startled step backward, trying to catch my eyes for a moment before hastily walking away. I shake my head and walk at a hurried pace to the fence. Once I get there, I don't bother to check if it's on. I scramble under it and direct all of my strength into running; I'm barely aware that I'm heading toward where my snares are set. Somewhere in the back of my head, I'm relieved I'd set my snares so far away.

I crash through the forest, not bothering to quiet my footsteps. To my dismay, once I get to the clearing, my snares are still empty. I should probably set more, but I've left the things I need at home, the only thing I had the sense to grab was a knife. I feel the tears running down my cheeks already, some distant part of my mind registering the wetness leaking down my cheeks. Nearly all of my thoughts are unreachable as my mind's constant stream of comforting lies makes an effort to block everything out. I'm not even aware that I'm trying to reassure myself any longer; my mind is doing it for me, trying to keep my mask intact. I've been doing it so often that I don't even have to try anymore. My attempts are barely to any avail, I'm still breaking down.

_Katniss is fine. She's alive. She can stay alive. She knows you want her home. She'll fight to come back. She will come back. She'll come back and you won't have to pretend anymore. She-is-not-dead._

If I don't rub at my eyes, they shouldn't turn red as fast. I lean my head down anyway, trying to keep them from leaving stains on my cheeks and redness around my eyes. I sit down against a tree and let the betraying teardrops fall to the ground. How can I react like this, even when I'm trying not to believe Hazelle's words? What would happen if I don't try to disbelieve them?

To answer my question, because I need to know how bad it really is, I tell myself the inevitable. I finally surrender myself to the truth. Before long, it's an unstoppable flow of thoughts.

_ She's going to die. She's gone. I'm alone. I will never hold her again. I will never hear her sing again. I will never have her to talk to. I will never have her hand in mine as more than what we have. I'll never have her as I want. She's gone. I'm alone. Forever. I won't be able to wipe her tears away when she's crying. I'll never be there to comfort her when she's afraid. Never tell her that I love her. She will never know how I feel. She will never feel the same way-._

The horrible ripping sound that echoes through the forest startles me out of my thoughts. I realize it's coming from me. My chest is heaving.

The tearing sound bursts through me again.

It hurts. It's burning. I can barely breathe. My throat feels on fire. My burning tears are no longer falling one by one; a constant stream falls down onto my cheeks despite my effort. As my chest bursts open, a shaking moan breaks through. I keep seeing Katniss dead, on the ground, bleeding. Horrible imaginings race in front of my eyes. Then I see her, a desperate look in her eyes, tears falling down her cheeks. Another strangled sob tears through me. All of it comes out of me. Everything I've been feeling streamlining out of my chest. I try to stop it, but I can't shake off the truth.

_She's never coming back. I'll watch her die. Watch her leave me. Nobody else means what she does to me. My family isn't enough. Now that I had her, I can't live without her. She has torn me to pieces. She will be murdered and taken away from me, and there's nothing I can do to stop it._

I bang my head against the tree behind me, trying to cut off the stream of thoughts. But I can't. Only once do I suddenly have a small cloud of a thought that helps clear a free space in my mind. I can try to keep myself quiet, figure out how to stop this for... later. But the thought only shows itself for a moment before the other thoughts take over again. _I will never feel her lips on mine. _Another breaking sob rocks me. I try to focus on a memory of her smiling face._ You'll never see that again._ It doesn't stop the pain. I focus on Prim. She'll need my comfort. I have to be calm for her so she can make it through. _But who will help you?_ Finally, I focus on nothing. Nothing. I get up off the ground and force back every little thing that I'm thinking, only to fall back down again. I try to just feel my breathing, hear my breathing; think about nothing but my breathing. The memories of the thoughts are still hovering in the back of my mind, but I make myself ignore them. My throat is burning. My chest feels like it's imploded in on itself, but its all inner-pain that I can keep hidden. I hesitantly open my eyes. They're blurry from the flow of salty tears, but I don't let myself think of where they came from. I breathe deeply in and out as my chest stops throbbing as hard, the ripping and tearing noises easing back away. Focusing on my breathing helps me to force it back into an even rhythm. I'll have to try this again, try to keep my reaction locked inside beginning to end.

But not today, I'm not sure I can go through that again. Not today.

After a long while of just sitting there, I stand up again and take a shaky breath. I start to realize the state that I'm in once I'm composed enough to feel my own body's movements and pains, rather than those inside me. My face is drenched, though by keeping my head bent most of the time, I've avoided soaking my clothes. The small tearstains will dry soon. My throat and chest still bear a little pain, but that should subside if I continue to harden my focus on other things. I can gather. I'll have to be home before they show anything important in the Games, so it's better I don't fish, I'll probably be waiting for a long while if I do, and right now, I can't afford to let my mind wander in fear of what it will explore back to.

I find an undisturbed patch of strawberries and a couple of herbs that can be eaten. I stalk toward the large pond, deciding I could try for a good knife throw if I see anything.

I drift silently through the cover of brush and trees to see a squirrel scampering near the lake's shore. It's a small target, but there's nothing to lose in trying. I grip my knife with the dim hope of a well aimed throw. Can I do what I did for Prim? Can I aim as well as I did when this very knife pierced the wolf's mid-section? I don't know.

I swing my blade forward anyway, watching it slice through the air. The squirrel hears the slight sound of it hurdling in it's direction and turns around. It darts, but not before the blade slices across the back of it's leg. It's slow now, lame. Without a thought, I jump after it, grabbing the knife on the way. No thought of disease enters my mind. I catch its lame leg and it lets out a high-pitched chattering sound as it turns on me. It gets its little claws on my hands and wrist, but before it can get its mouth open, the knife is through its head.

I try to avoid the small spurt of blood, but a few drops land on my shirt. I look down and scowl, but only for a moment. It'll cover any tear marks that would give me away. I pick up my mangled squirrel and gathered herbs and berries in my arms. I was too hurried to grab a bag.

I keep half the berries and trade the other half for a thin broth. I bring the squirrel, the remaining berries, and herbs home. I wash the berries and herbs, also separating them into the meal piles that are still sitting on the table where I left them. Giving larger portions of berries to the others. I cook the squirrel in the little fireplace that we use as a stove. I put the squirrel and herbs in the broth, creating a crude soup. It's a fair meal. Not very nourishing, but a bowl of thin broth, a small squirrel, two young rabbits, a few herbs and berries can only go so far between seven people. Which is why I'm trying to give most of it to the others.

I don't notice Hazelle's absence until she's back, Prim and Mrs. Everdeen trailing behind her. I look up and let out a long breath.

"I'm really sorry. I did the best I could, but… we'll scarcely be eating tonight. I split the meals unevenly. So some of us will be having even less than others." I say, picking up the plates one by one and placing them on the table. The TV hasn't alarmed yet, so I'm setting the food early so we can eat while we have time. Even without the Games showing, our families seek comfort from each other, like sharing dinner in the same house so that they can sit beside people who are feeling the same loss.

"Vick! Rory! Bring Posy, we're eating," Says Hazelle. The boys and Posy come out of the room my brothers and I share.

"Already?" Rory asks.

"Yes," I answer. "So sit at the table before I lessen your portion." They don't argue; they don't say anything at all. I must sound like I jerk, but I'm not in my best mood. They should thank Hazelle for that.

When I finish setting the plates, I call out the names and tell them where to sit.

"Hazelle." I haven't yet figured out if using her name bothers her, but if it does, I'm glad I use it. I point to one of the lesser plates. She looks at it and nods, sitting down.

"Mrs. Everdeen." It's a similarly filled plate. She makes no comment as she sits.

"Rory and Vick." I point to two plates, filled with more food than the two adults, both equal. They look a little smug, like it's an honor to have more food.

"Prim." Her plate is filled like my brothers', but I gave her a few extra berries. She looks at Vick's and Rory's and then the adult's plates. She looks up at me and frowns a little bit, but I know that she needs more food than them; I give her a hard glare until she sits down.

"Posy is sitting with you." I say, addressing my mother. She nods and takes her from Rory, seated next to her. The other plate next to Hazelle's is filled with as much food as Posy will probably need. It's less than the two brothers', only slightly more than the adults'.

I sit down at my plate, filled with the least amount. I have three strawberries, a very small chunk of rabbit meat, and a small bowl of broth, one chunk of squirrel meat floating in it. Even the adults have a larger slice of rabbit meat, a couple more spoons of broth in which there is more squirrel meat, and four berries. Nobody seems to realize that the last plate is nearly barren, and I'm glad I don't have to argue with anyone. But once I sit down, Hazelle's eyes snap to my plate.

"Gale! You can't live on that!" She cries. Hastily cutting a large portion off of her rabbit.

"Hazelle, you know I'm not going to eat that." I remark, slowly picking off bits of my food. If I eat slowly, it will last longer. Besides, kids in the Games go with less food than this more often than not, though Katniss won't have that kind of trouble. She may not have a bow, but she's still lethal with a knife.

"You can't start starving yourself! That's not-!"

"Hazelle! Don't go into hysterics. I gave the food to who needs it most."

"Then feed yourself!"

"Look at your plates, all of you. What have I brought home? Two scrawny rabbits, a small squirrel, herbs and berries! I can't keep seven people full off of that. I'll eat more when we have enough food. I'll try a bow soon, but my aim is hopeless. No matter how hard she tried to teach me, I couldn't get used to it!" I yell; I'm a little angry at letting the last sentence slip. I don't know where it came from. "At least she took to trapping quickly." I mutter, taking another small bite of the rabbit.

"…Oh." She says, relief all over her face, but she recovers her composure quickly. "You were able to hunt for _us_, Gale. What more are two people?"

"I was barely able to keep you four fed." I say, "Having someone who could use a bow kept us healthy. Now we'll starve through some nights, because the animals won't take to my traps."

"And on other nights we'll be full. We were surviving even before you found Katniss in the woods," She protests. Apparently, she hadn't realized that I was trying to avoid that name. When she says it, I flinch. But she would probably have to be very focused on me to see it; she'd have to be looking for it, unfortunately, she very well might be.

"Just let me apologize now, We'll end up losing weight." I say, bitterly.

"Katniss tried to teach me to hunt." Prim says, unexpectedly. Her voice is small and hollow. "I couldn't do it. I can't use a bow."

"Hey, neither can I." I say, my voice softer. "I'll have to try, though." I add, looking back up to everyone else. I take a small sip of the broth. After a moment of indecision, I take a strawberry and bite into it. I only eat half of it.

Vick and Rory are halfway finished with their food, even eating slower than usual. Prim and Mrs. Everdeen are picking at it slower than I am. Hazelle hasn't touched her food, and is still glaring at me; Posy is finished. She lets out a cry to get to the ground. When Hazelle concedes, seeing that she doesn't have anything left, Posy immediately comes toward my seat.

"Up!" Posy squeals at me, I pick her up and let her sit on my lap. She sits there for only a few seconds, and then she's reaching for my plate.

"See? Posy agrees with me." I mock, reaching for one of the strawberries to give her. If I get enough food later, this shouldn't matter. But before I can reach the berry, Hazelle is standing.

"Don't you dare give her anything," She orders, "you cannot give that away."

"I'm not giving it away, I'm feeding a helpless child." I argue, but she's already taking Posy away from me.

We finish the meal in silence, all of the others resigned to me eating less. Once dinner is over, Hazelle takes the plates and washes them. There's not enough light to go out and set more snares. It was darker this morning, but Hazelle wasn't awake to see that I was heading out. She never used to protest, but now that I don't have Katniss to watch my back when it's dark, she's skittish about it. I can't argue with her about that now, though, it's time for the anthem. We shuffle over to the TV and listen to the familiar tune without a word.

After the anthem, they show one face, the girl from Eight that was killed before the Career pack got to Katniss. That's all. They flick through where the tributes chose to sleep and show the ones who are still walking. Katniss is in a tree again. She's holding a rabbit bone to her mouth, probably to give her parched tongue something to work with. As usual, being the girl from Twelve, she's the last one shown. The TV dismisses us again, and we say our temporary goodbyes.

Once the Everdeens are gone, I walk back to my shared room, ready to go to sleep.

I can't help but wonder if Katniss ever thinks about me, at night before she falls asleep, or if I became just a friend from the past that she's already decided she won't see again.

What am I going to do if she… leaves? What will I do if she comes face to face with her death tomorrow, the next day? Will I have the strength to hold everything back when it screams for release? Will I keep myself strong enough to take on the pressure of everyone else's pain? No. It'll be a miracle if I can keep a strait face for more than a few minutes. What of Prim? She's not strong enough as it is. What will happen to her?

Once I'm alone in my room, my brothers still trying to go unnoticed by my mother, I slump down onto the bed. My head falls into my hands. There is no possible way that I can endure watching… watching what I've imagined too many times to count. I'm not a man. I'm a coward, a coward who so foolishly attached himself to someone whose death could be right around the corner. I feel my chest contract and a low moan of pain rumble up through me. I'm alone, and the sound should go unheard, but it would be heard in the living room with my family, or at school. It just hurts. All of it hurts. It hurts especially that I can't bear the pain. But the most horrible, nagging hurt, was having so many chances to tell her how I feel, and failing each time to do so. I was so close the last time, I almost said those three crucial words, but I was taken away, yanked from the room before I could let her know that she means more to me than she thinks. Now she's gone. Never will she smile at me again. Never will I hear her laugh with me again. All her smiles will be with alliances in the arena, which will eventually try to kill her. I can only watch her now. Watch her slowly forget about me, slowly blend into a life in the arena, until I won't be watching anything anymore. Until I'm left to waste away by myself.

How can I be comforted that she's still alive when I know that she's going to die?

* * *

**Not my best sad ending, I know, but I'm hoping that the other "depression moment" can make up for that.**

**Yeah, I wanted to have a little questioning. Hazelle seems pretty darn sure and she won't drop it! It might get annoying, so I'm giving him a break from that in the coming chapters.**

**Did anybody notice that a song gave me inspiration in the last paragraph? I've mentioned the song before, but it's stuck in my head, again!**

**REVIEW! Please. I said the magic word! You can't refuse the magic word! If this isn't really what you want, you have to tell me so that I can fix it!**


	12. Rise and Fall

** So, I've been told to pick it up with the plot, and I was planning to. I just wanted to finish that day. **_**Anyway,**_** I have a question. Should I skip through days when nothing very important happens? Or should I write through it fully, showing more of what he does when the Games aren't on? I'm leaning toward the latter, because I'm curious. **_**I**_** want to know what's going on, and I won't know until I write it.**

** I've also been told that it's a little overdone. I've been thinking about that even before the review that said so, so I'm going to tone it down a bit... unless you people don't think I should. Thank you for all of the reviews! Remember, I love reviews! Especially reviews with helpful comments and advice. I can't make it better if you don't tell me what you don't like about it!**

**Sorry it's taken me forever and a day, but I'm stressed out 24/7 now that school's back in session (I rhymed!), and I can barely afford the time to work on this.**

**DISCLAIMER: Every single detail about the arena, every character, a certain book: **_**The Hunger Games**_**, anything written in **_**The Hunger Games… **_**who owns all that, you may ask? Not me. I own none of it. A certain woman by the name of Suzanne Collins does.**

**Last of all: Sorry about a few grammatical or spelling errors I may miss in this story... I try to check them all but... I miss a few. Sarah? I'm talking to you especially. **

**Read!**

**

* * *

**

I stalk through the woods, carrying the materials for my snares in one hand, a knife in the other. I'm alert for any sign of movement, any minuscule twitch let loose in the trees. I'm as quiet I find possible as I search for any signs of another presence, any disturbance in the trees or undergrowth surrounding me.

A figure suddenly drops next to me, landing in a graceful crouch.

"Hi, Gale."

I don't flinch, refusing to acknowledge the fact that she appeared from seemingly thin air. I can't give her that satisfaction. I nod. "Katniss."

After a quarter mile of silence, we reach a familiar clearing, the ground thick with leaves and dappled with small bushes. Katniss' eyes immediately flash to the right, and without a pause, she whips out her bow, takes a few seconds to aim, and releases her grasp on the string. I watch in admiration as the arrow pierces a squirrel, as always, through it's eyes, witch are perfectly alined with it's head turned toward the end of the branch it's climbing. Sometimes I wonder if she does it purely for show-off purposes, or if she's trying to make the squirrel more delectable to a buyer.

Nevertheless, her skill in archery never fails to take my breath away.

"I still don't understand how you can do that." I mumble, taking my eyes off of the squirrel, now lying on the ground about twenty yards away. She frowns at me.

"I was taught by a master, you'd be able to do it too if my father were your teacher." She sighs, sitting down across from me to watch me work, leaving the squirrel dead on the ground.

"Besides," she adds, "I can't make a decent snare." Her voice is melancholy, as it usually is when she's just addressed her father. I give her a doubtful look.

"They're fine," I protest. "They work. They may not be very advanced, but they usually don't fail you, and that's what matters," I say, reciting the same words I used to repeat constantly when I was first teaching her.

She gets up and walks back to retrieve the squirrel, hooking it onto her belt. By the time she gets back, I've already finished the first snare. She stays on her feet, waiting, until I look up at her. She offers me a hand; I take it and get up, propelled by curiosity.

She leads me through the trees, moving silently. I fix my footsteps into a gentle rhythm, following her example. After about ten minutes of walking, I spot a rabbit, fifty yards ahead, snuffling through a patch of grass. Katniss must have spotted it too, most likely before I did. She nods toward a tree. I find enough trustworthy footholds and climb up as quietly as I can. The few rustles I make seem scarcely detectable, and I doubt I could've been quieter, and it is for this reason that I'm surprised to find Katniss is right behind me once I find a perch in the branches. She hadn't made a sound. She's beside me in an instant, and I catch my breath at her sudden and unexpected nearness. Her voice is a soft breath against my ear.

"Take my bow," she whispers. I force back a shiver, although I'm not quite sure why I react at all. I reach out, slowly clutching the bow in her hands. She lets go, and I'm sure that I understand her purpose for bringing me here; I take careful aim on the rabbit. But before I can release, she lays a gentle hand on my arm. My breath catches for a fraction of a second.

She gently raises my arm, and guides it a bit further to the right. It's hard to focus on the rabbit by this point, and I find myself holding my breath. I try to breathe in evenly, and find it very difficult to keep my breath at a steady rhythm. She brushes my shoulder, nudging it higher. I stiffen, but manage to do as she wishes. She pushes up on my elbow, straightening my arm slightly. Her breath blows past my ear again.

"Relax," she breathes, and I try to loosen my tight muscles. After a moment she continues. "You're not lined up with the eye, but that doesn't matter if you hit it. This arrow should go through it's middle if you release smoothly. It _will_ hit the rabbit."

I let out a quiet breath. _I will hit the rabbit,_ I think, trying not to get distracted by her warmth radiating into my side. It never used to distract me before. I inhale, and with a silent plea for success, release the string. It's as if everything is in slow motion as the arrow flies through the air, the rabbit looks up, and finally, jerks to the ground, the arrow burying itself not in it's mid-section, but it's neck. Katniss' voice breaks through the silence that follows.

"You missed."

We allow a low, rasping whisper of laughter, the quiet laugh we try to use when we haven't gathered enough food yet and don't want to scatter the all of the prey in the area. When our fit of laughter dies away, we glide down the tree, still performing the quick, percise movements required to move quietly. We make our way back to the location of my snare, and I sit back down to make more. Katniss takes some of my supplies a little ways away and starts on one of her own. A basic one.

A sudden, dazzling smile breaks across her face as she works. "We should celebrate tonight; this was your last year," she says, a combination of relief and happiness weaving through her voice, "You're safe now." Today was my last Reaping, but I don't feel the relief yet.

"But you're not." I mumble, putting the finishing touches on my second snare. She's still working with her first, trying to perfect it.

I move over to sit beside her and watch her work through the hardest and most precise part of the trap. She's about to make a mistake, so I catch her hand and guide it to the right position.

"If you'd have been reaped today…" I trail off and shake my head, the horrible state I'd be left in letting itself be known in my thoughts.

She finishes the snare and looks up to meet my eyes. Unexpectedly, she wraps her arms around me and lays her head against my chest. I freeze, taking in a shallow breath after a second, praying she can't feel my racing heart. She begins to speak.

"At least if I'm taken, my family will have you. You'd be able to feed them. And now I don't have to worry about you, only your brothers and Prim." Her words shock me.

"What? If my traps fail, I fail. You can shoot anything when you need to."

"If I can find it." I don't respond, knowing that she'll only argue with me further. I change the subject.

"I can't believe I shot something." I say, absentmindedly; but it's true. I may be able to throw a knife, but that only works with short distances. With a bow, you can shoot more, because you almost completely lose the risk of scaring off your prey before you get in range. "I couldn't have done it without your help, of course."

"Yeah. If you'd shot the arrow where you were aiming, it would've hit the ground just to the left of its backside." I can hear the smile in her voice. She sits up and meets my eyes. "The first time I tried to shoot- my dad was there to see it- I missed completely. It flew two feet below the branch that the bird was perched on, but that wouldn't have mattered anyway, because my arrow ended up about a yard to the right of where it should have." She shakes her head. "Then the bird jumped up and started to fly away, but my dad shot it out of the air. I thought my father had done the impossible," she says, her voice filled with a sad admiration. She rests her head against my chest again, closing her eyes.

"And now you can do the same," I say, looking away. She sits back up and smiles at me, a sight that's become common after years of hard work. Then, as I contemplate the effort I'd put into such a useless deed, trying to understand the reason for it, it strikes me. Hard. I resist the urge to meet her eyes, but the feel of her confused gaze reminds me that I can't just end the conversation, not without an excuse, at least.

"Gale?"

"Yes?"

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" It's as if she can read my mind. I have to tell her. I'm not a coward. But how can I...?

"You know… um… how the school thinks we're dating?" I ask timidly, scooting away from her because I'm starting to feel extremely uncomfortable. I feel goose bumps pop up on my arms and try to hide them behind my body.

"Yes. Why?" She asks, innocently. That small detail means nothing to her; we've decided to ignore the rumors. I press myself forward.

"What if… what if we were?"

"I don't know; that's-" She breaks off, her eyes widen, and a blush tinges her cheeks scarlet. I meet her eyes, trying, in vain, to keep the heat from rising to my face.

She takes a breath to respond.

My eyes whip open to a thin stream of early dawn light filtering through our small window. I slowly sit up, blinking my eyes furiously, shaking my head.

Would that have happened, if the Reaping didn't take her? Would I have been brave enough?

My shoulder, arm, and neck are still tingling. There are still Goosebumps up and down my arms. The first thought that reaches my mind is how pathetic my attempt at self-reassurance is, trying to make myself believe that I'm doing as good a job as Katniss would have if she was left behind in my place. I try to shake off the leftover reaction from the dream, but a violent shiver shakes my entire body, only making the goosebumps worse. My movements stress the bed, letting out a loud creak that disturbs the silence. Vick jumps up immediately, breathing long, heavy, ragged breaths. He meets my gaze, but quickly looks to the opposite wall. When he turns back, a serene mask disguises his expression.

I can't help but feel a little proud.

Rory gets up slowly and yawns, looking around for the source of the noise that woke him, I expect. I run a hand through my hair, trying to think through the dream.

I don't get very far.

"'S not Saturday is it?" Rory asks, groggily falling back down onto the bed.

"Tuesday," I mumble, annoyed. "Did you forget the month, too?" I ask, only slightly serious.

"...No," he says, indignantly. I don't bother replying.

"You can go back to bed. Dawn's just breaking, we don't have to leave for another hour and a half," I mutter, grabbing my hunting gear. I watch Vick as I put it on. He seems distracted.

I hear a faint rustling and creaking as they get back into a comfortable position for another hour of sleep when I walk out. I don't bother checking the TV, Katniss should be sleeping still, preserving energy; she'll wake up later in the morning.

Once I'm out the door, I suck in a long breath. Most are sleeping at this hour, so I have the time to myself. No interruptions, no noises, and no distractions. I break into a slight jog, and then slow into a walk at the gate. I lean in and listen for a buzz, only wasting a moment to check. I squeeze through the bottom and come up in the forest, straitening myself and moving onward.

Once the snares set, I hurry home and pound on Hazelle's door before I enter my brothers' room.

"School. Wake up," I say, nudging them. They reluctantly sit up, stretching. I take off the hunting gear and replace it with a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. Vick and Rory do the same, brushing their fingers through their hair, trying to flatten the tufts of hair sticking up in all directions.

I roll my eyes to myself as I walk out, leaving my hair as it is. Hazelle meets me in the hallway, blocking my exit. I frown.

"Did you shoot anything?" She asks, something like dread in her voice. I did try a bow this morning, but hadn't done well. I failed every opportunity, some by inches, others by a larger range.

"I set six snares," I mumble, ignoring the question, but the answer is clear. She lets me by, and I look miserably at the counter. We won't have a lunch today.

"Vick, Rory," I say, in a slightly raised voice. They come out of our room and glance at my empty hands. Quickly looking away, they mumble a goodbye to Hazelle and scuttle out the door. I sigh, meeting Hazelle's eyes for a moment before leaving. I quickly catch up to my brothers. They don't acknowledge my arrival for a while, until Vick mumbles something that I don't catch.

"What?" I ask, urging him to speak louder.

"How do you do it?"

"What?" I repeat.

"Get them to notice you." I don't have to ask who _they_ are.

"It's not as great as it seems; I can't get them away from me... I have no idea how to do the opposite." I try to keep the last statement casual, realizing just how true it is as I say it. Vick doesn't say anything else. He goes silent again, thinking. Rory speaks up.

"Yeah, it just comes _naturally_ to him," he says, sarcastically. "Why we can't do the same, I'm not sure."

They probably can and will, once they're older; I feel a strong surge of pity. I don't want to think about how Rory would take the attention. Vick… I'm not sure. He's more reasonable, I think he likes attention about as much as I do; I've seen him trying to blend into the background. Where Rory is outgoing and a risk-taker, Vick is shy and timid.

Hopefully, they won't end up like me at all, for their own sake.

Vick and Rory give a half-hearted wave as they walk through the door. I turn to walk in the other direction, my head down, eyes averted from the crowd. I can feel all of the gazes on me, straining to catch mine. Although the giggles and whispers have died down, I can never escape the eyes on my back. I watch my feet.

When I know my locker is a few feet away, I look up and focus all of my attention on it. I strain to hold back the automatic reaction to look over when I feel someone straining to catch my attention. Once I'm finally at my locker though, I catch a glance of a girl moving in my direction out of the corner of my eye. I do a double take, realizing the girl walking toward me can't be here for the reason most usually are.

I don't like her; she's too wealthy. She's an average girl, not exactly nice or caring toward other people in many ways. She keeps to herself most of the time, but strays into a circle of talking girls every once in a while. She is to Katniss what Kelsa is to me. They were in the same year, and I suspect they used to be partners in some of the activities and assignments they would be given. She's the only female friend Katniss has.

"Gale," she says, tonelessly. She doesn't look exactly sad, more… resigned. I straighten and meet her eyes, my face and voice guarded.

"Madge," I mumble, faking disinterest. The dislike I feel toward her is mutual, she doesn't like me all that much either. Why is she suddenly talking to me?

She isn't like the other girls, though, what with their giggling and whispering, so I don't hate her. I merely don't _like_ her.

"You miss her... don't you?" She doesn't have to clarify.

"What kind of question is that?" I can't say yes, but my tone answers the question. The true, full answer to that question cannot be said aloud. She leans against the locker next to mine and fixates her gaze on something at the end of the hallway.

"Talk about her." Her voice is a raw pleading.

"I'm sure that there are others you can go talk too," I keep my voice steady, unwavering.

"You're… you're her… hunting partner, right?"

"Yes," I say, my voice flat.

"But you're also her… friend?" Her voice takes on a different quality on 'friend.' It's not quite doubt or disbelief; it's more like curiosity. She's not quite pressing for an answer, but trying to answer the question herself.

"Yes," I repeat. She turns back toward me and frowns for a second, but then turns away just as quickly.

"No I can't. You're the only one who knows who she is. Please, just… just talk about her." I finally understand why she's come. We're probably the only two people in the school that care about her besides Vick, Rory, and Prim. Although she couldn't guess what it's like for me, she's probably feeling some small fraction of it. That's enough to hurt someone that doesn't know how shut it all away.

"She's strong, the best archer alive, and she knows how to survive. I've known her for four years, and I know she can make it." The conviction in my voice speaks for itself; I'm desperate to believe my own words. She turns to face me, her eyes watery.

"I hope so… I…" she sakes her head. I'm silently disgusted. Is she looking for sympathy? She could at least try to hide her sorrow, if it's even genuine. She can let her eyes fill to the brim with tears, while I have to tolerate a horrible sting in my chest and throat to hold back any hint of such a thing.

"Hey, um..." A voice calls from down the hall, and I realize that it's Kelsa. I direct my gaze over to hers and wave a hand.

"Its alright, Kelsa. It's only Madge," I say. "She hates me."

Madge shrugs.

"Oh," she smiles, "Nice to meet you."

I turn toward my locker and catch a glimpse of a familiar face; it's Rory.

He's is looking beyond me, one of his eyebrows rising slightly and a little smirk playing on his face; finally, his eyes flick to mine and he jumps, sliding into a hallway, concealing himself behind the wall. I fight the urge to follow him. After a conflicted moment, I decide to let it go, taking out my school books. When I turn back around, Madge and Kelsa quickly turn toward me, and I can't tell where they were looking beforehand. A shadow of suspicion plays at the back of my mind, but I dismiss it, deciding it couldn't possibly be important.

I wave to Kelsa; who turns away to go to her classroom, she nods at me. Madge doesn't offer a farewell, just turns and walks away; I can't help but catch a small glint of emotion in her eye, it's not sorrow, it's a fiercer look, something along the lines of irritation. I don't think about it much, she's given me that look plenty of times, and even if it didn't seem to be directed at me, she's scowled for no apparent reason several times before. I finger my bow and arrow carving as I walk to my class.

Before I know it, I'm sitting at the lunch table with Kelsa.

I feel a faint burn at the center of my chest, sitting with this girl; this girl that isn't Katniss. This girl that I barely know, but tries so hard to help me, this girl that's... the only person I can expect to be there for me. I shouldn't be sitting with her, I should be sitting with Katniss, watching the Games, seeing her gasp helplessly at the deaths, trying to quietly comfort her without attracting the attention of others. The burn strengthens further, and I immediately shut down any thought, any memory of her from my mind.

It's something I've been getting better at lately.

The cameras begin showing updates; they rest on a large meadow. Two tributes are staring at each other from opposite sides. After a moment, I realize it's the boy and girl from 11, the little Rue girl and the monster. I feel my lips tug down slightly at the corners; pity for the girl, so young and innocent, about to be brought down for the amusement of Capitol citizens prodding faintly at the back of my mind. I watch, waiting for Thresh to advance on her.

But he doesn't.

He just stares at her, and she stares back, a soundless acknowledgement of each other's presence passing between them. This occupies the screen for a second, and then Thresh soundlessly turns in the opposite direction, moving away from her. Rue watches him go, and then climbs into a nearby tree and flutters away through the branches. At first I'm shocked, but then, a faint smile touches my lips; this refusal to fight- it's like a small rebellion in itself. I hope he dies painlessly.

It then shows the Fox-faced girl receiving a rabbit from a reasonably functional snare. Then, in a tree, picking at some leaves, it shows Rue again. When the screen finally flicks through updates on Katniss, the camera's current main focus due to her lack of hydration, I slowly inhale and try to prepare myself for the worst. The cameras show the sky once every time before locking in on Katniss, giving us an estimate on the time of day. She fell out of her tree this morning, not even bothering to try to stay quiet. Throughout the day, she stumbles noisily through the forest, and I can only hope that no one came for her while I wasn't watching.

Sometime earlier this afternoon, an angry expression crosses her face out of nowhere, a furious look sparking in her eye. I start to wonder if the lack of water is driving her crazy, and I'm struck with a wave of concern, when she speaks.

"Water."

Haymitch! It all hits me at once. Why hasn't Haymitch given her water? She must have sponsors, and yet she can't get a single drop of water? She waits there, staring at the sky for a couple of seconds. Then a look of realization dawns on her face, and she immediately continues her search, looking a little more hopeful. I'm completely lost on that. If she received a message, it must have been sent using the mutual understanding between tribute and mentor, something I don't think I've ever seen before.

The scene changes again, and the cameras are still on Katniss. But now it's because she's nearly dragging herself along. When she falls, I can tell it's not the first time it's happened, just the first time they've bothered to show us.

Because she doesn't get up.

I suck in a breath and hold it; _The cannon hasn't fired yet_. Still, the burning in my chest intensifies and my throat tears; I restrain the pain from entering my expression, deftly refusing to react.

The camera closes in on her face, exhausted, but also slightly relieved, grateful for rest... as if she's ready for death to take her.

As if she's the only one that her decision will affect.

I want to yell, to beg her to fight, when I hear a shattered scream come from the back of the room.

Prim.

I turn to see Peacekeepers crowding around the back table, the screams and sobs only increasing in volume, while becoming slightly muffled as the Peacekeepers try to force her into silence. Fury finally grasps hold of my desperate focus.

"No! Stop it! Please! Katniss!" Prim's screams burst through the crowd of adults.

I'm standing before I even realize I've moved. I stiffly walk over to the five Peacekeepers surrounding her. My teeth are bared behind my lips, my eyes glaring. A few of them turn to look at me, and I can tell that some recognize me as the rebellious trouble maker they've had problems with since they've met me. When the rest continue to struggle to hold her still and cover her mouth, I try to speak calmly, but finding that impossible, I manage a rough snarl.

"Get away from her." Anger. Only anger, that's all I'll allow….

I hear the room go completely silent, and I know that every single pair of eyes are directed at me. A quick glance at the screen tells me the cameras haven't yet moved, waiting for Katniss to give up. The rest of the Peacekeepers look up at me, startled at my sudden appearance. When they don't make a move to leave, I continue.

"Get out of my way." I've attempted to lower my voice, and it's become a quiet hiss; quiet, but loud in the silent room. Finally one of them speaks up.

"School tradition proposes three lashes for harming us in any way, why should we be afraid of you?" Prim is still struggling and sobbing.

"Because I'd take the lashes," The deadly seriousness in my voice seems to faze them. Prim finally goes completely silent, and there isn't a sound in the room, this tells me the cameras are still waiting for Katniss, who isn't moving. I realize I'm hyperventilating, and I stare at the screen for a moment to watch her back slowly rise and fall.

Rise and fall.

Rise and fall.

I harden my face and take a step forward, toward the Peacekeepers. These men may be strong, but they look too slow to have any chance of fighting me back, and I know that they're sure I can inflict some damage. I begin to prepare myself for the fight that's sure to come when Prim's silence finally reaches my thoughts.

"She's done. You can leave her alone now," I say, icily. I've somehow managed to control my voice- no longer a hiss, but still cold.

They slowly back away, strict looks on their faces. They start whispering and I can tell that they're trying to find a way to punish me. Once they retreat, Prim flings herself at me. Crying into my side, trying to stay silent. Even so, little whines and muffled coughs still come up from her chest. I rest a hand on her back, trying to comfort her. I'm vaguely aware of all the eyes on me.

All the time I whisper to Prim, my voice stiff, "She's alive, she's alive, her heart's still beating Prim, she'll get up." Speaking the reassurances to her helps them feel more real to me. I focus on that one thin thread of life left in Katniss. She only needs to rest. The Katniss I grew up with is stubborn enough to keep her heart beating.

"She's gone!" Prim wails suddenly, her voice breaking the near silence of the room.

"No, she's not." I flinch at how loud my voice sounds.

Suddenly, Katniss stiffens; I barely catch it. Her body tenses. I grab Prim's shoulder to get her attention.

"Prim." I say, motioning to the screen. Katniss' hands grab at the mud below her.

_Mud._

"Mud." I whisper to myself, but everyone hears it. "Water."

She struggles to look up; the camera moves to show a pond, not far in front of her. She crawls forward hastily until part of her body sinks into the beautiful, lily filled pond, and suddenly, everybody's cheering. The students stand up and clap, most of them yelling her name in glee and some of them catcalling, but I'm too relieved to even notice. Prim keeps crying, but now I know they're tears of happiness, her sorrow long forgotten. The entire school is rooting for her, everyone hoping she can make it through, be the first to win. They think she has a chance, that

For once, I can only feel one thing.

Relief.

And I'm laughing, laughing in that relief, and I know my eyes are tearing up, but I don't care anymore. She's alive. That's all that will ever matter; she's alive.

I can't even bring myself to care about the staring.

I walk back to my seat, that small grin still playing on my lips. I sit down, completely ignoring Kelsa's eyes on me.

I watch the screen; Katniss is by the lake, pouring the iodine into her half-gallon plastic bottle. I sigh quietly, the water could have made her sick, and I thought she might be too thirsty to find the patience to clean it. _She remembered._

"Yeah. I probably would have gotten sick from gulping down the entire pond," Kelsa says, startling me. I must have said the words aloud.

"She's always had the best survival related advantages," I say, off-handedly. "I keep finding myself relieved that she's the one with the bow. You can't kill someone with a snare." Kelsa looks a bit lost.

"Can't either of you use a knife?"

"I can. So can Katniss. Haymitch was bragging about it- she must have shown him." I haven't had a conversation much longer than this in a long while. I'm still filled with all-consuming relief. Kelsa turns back to the screen.

I do too. The camera's flash ahead and show her very slowly sipping at the water.

Then they focus elsewhere, back to the Careers. They're wandering aimlessly around the arena. I see Peeta among them, and barely manage to keep from scowling.

"So... we need to take care of the biggest threats first, then we can blow through the others. Who should we look for?" The girl from 1, Glimmer, asks.

I've been thinking about the dangers that the girl from 5 proposes. She melts into the background so that no one notices her, it's cunning, and it's that cunning that she seems to posses that has captured my attention. She's a dangerous competitor.

"I think we can ignore the boy from 10, for now. The girl from 11 doesn't look like a danger, nor does our little guard from 3. We'll kill them later," Cato drones, as if it's a matter of slight importance.

"That leaves the girl from 5, the boy from 11, and… your girlfriend," the boy from 1 concludes, addressing Peeta and snickering. I wince ever so slightly at his choice of words.

"I think Thresh is the biggest threat," says Cato.

"What?" The girl from 4 demands, "You're going to underestimate the others because they're girls?"

Clove pitches in on this one.

"You listen to me, boys. I may not like her, but Katniss is a huge threat. She came out really pretty in the ceremonies, and I'm positive she has excellent sponsors. And what was her training score?" When the two boys don't respond, she plows on, "11! That's better than both of you! I'll bet she can hunt too, which none of us can do well."

By the end of her speech, Marvel is nodding, and I can see Cato's injured dignity. I'm surprised they can admit to that at all, and I'm almost as proud as I am terrified that they've singled her out. Peeta flinches, it's so unexpected at this point that I think I might have imagined it, but his next words prove it true.

"I think Thresh is more dangerous," he says tentatively, "he's stronger. And the 5 girl is smarter." He should know full well how smart Katniss really is if he spent the amount of time with her that I witnessed.

"He's trying to protect her," I whisper to myself. Waves of jealousy and thankfulness hit me at the same time, and I'm momentarily overwhelmed with the conflicting feelings; I can't decide how to react to the revelation.

"I know. It's weird, I never believed that the romance was anything but ploy," Kelsa replies, in an answering whisper.

"We'll kill them as they come," Glimmer suggests, "but we'll be on the look out for 5, 11, and 12."

"Whatever," is Cato's reply, while the other Careers nod in agreement.

That's it for today, earlier today anyway. We are dismissed from the lunchroom. As I leave, I think about the Career's decision. When will they find Katniss? What will happen to her when they do?

No.

They won't find Katniss, and nothing will happen. She's skilled in survival, she'll stay hidden, and even if she is found, she'll find a way out of it.

I sigh; trying to comfort yourself isn't easy when you no longer believe your own words.

**

* * *

Not my best chapter. I didn't even go as far as I wanted. I've been getting reviews telling me to hurry up the update, so I've decided to stop here instead of finishing the day. I just realized that this is definitely long enough to serve as a chapter in itself, anyway.**

**The next chapter will only be the other half of this day, but if you remember, that half of the day was rather… eventful. And I'm sorry if I take a long time updating... school and all...  
**

**SO! REVIEW ME. Thank you to all of my reviewers!  
**

**Marvel (Rue's killer) was a Career, right?**

**I got and finished Mockingjay! Hoooray! Wait no, GRRR...**

**A note for thought:  
****Have you ever had someone tell you that failure is unacceptable?  
****How is failure unacceptable, when it's inevitable?**


	13. Author's Note

**Those of you who think that I have completely abandoned you:**

**I have not, actually, abandoned you.**

**So, to those of you who ask me, 'Hey, have you stopped writing this story?', I respond, 'No, I've just been busy. I've been… otherwise occupied.'**

**And, sadly, I will always be rather slow. But I promise, I am going to begin writing the next chapter, 13, as quickly as I can (Which, sorry, is still rather slow).**

**Also.**

**I have contemplated editing my earlier chapters, all of them, and making this a clearer, better written, more sophisticated, less repetitive story.**

**I know what I need to fix, but I pause, thinking, 'But how long will that take?'**

**This is what I ask, and what I hope you answer in a quick yes/no PM or review:**

**Should I rewrite the entire story?**

**If the majority responds 'yes', then I will.**

**If the majority responds 'no', then I will post my next chapter.**

**I will begin writing the chapter either way, but whether I post it (and future chapters) sooner or _later_, depends solely on how many of you respond with yes or no.**

**To those of you who have stuck with me long enough to read this and decide, I thank you. I thank you so, so much. And to those of you who saw the mistakes in both plot and writing, I'm sorry, and I see them as well. Clearly. Painfully, in fact.**

**And I always feel that this need be said:**

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. Each and every chapter before this one is merely from a different POV of one of her characters. She owns all of the characters, except for a few OCs of mine. A lot of the dialogue is also property of Collins, besides that in the scenes that I create around her own. I own nothing, really. It all belongs to her. ;)**

**Please, tell me your opinions on the issue. Via review or Private Message, I don't mind.**

**Hope to see you soon,**

**Suzoo. (Becuase it happens to be a nickname that I actually _like._)**


	14. The Fear is Numb

**I hope all of you know how completely and heart-wretchingly sorry I am for being such a jerk. I said I'd update soon... how long ago? I deserve fire in the reviews, I know. I'd appreciate it, though, if you merely criticized my work, not my updating issues. Must have been the unlucky number 13 holding me back. After all, that district _did_ crash and burn. Hopefully this chapter won't...**

**Thanks guys, for sticking with me.**

**Disclaimer: You got it. I own nothing that you recognize from Suzanne Collins' books. Obviously, she owns it. None of this is mine, really, besides what you know _does_ belong to me. I have taken dialogue (worded directly) and a scenes (worded differently) directly from the book written by Suzanne Collins, and of course it belongs to her. I do not own it. IT IS NOT MINE. Don't sue me, I beg.**

* * *

At some point during the school-day, I decide I'd rather be in hell. At least I wouldn't have to deal with the 'sympathy'. I can see that it's just as bad for Prim by the way she's glued to my side for as long as she can before she has to leave for her own classes.

Prim's beside me again as we walk to lunch as slowly as we possibly can, hiding from another onslaught, another wary stare, another thinly veiled whisper.

Only one tribute from Twelve had ever lasted this long, and he had been the Victor. The students have taken this as proof that it's over for Katniss. They've started acting as if it were _us _out there, Prim and I. Some react with pity, others with caution, and too many with congratulatory words.

It's driving us into the ground.

"Prim!" It's a small girl, small enough to be in Prim's age group. Short, with wispy brown hair, hazel eyes, and an expression so excited it makes me sick to my stomach. I could swear I recognize her. "I just can't believe your sister's still alive out there! How could she possibly have..."

She trails off when I move to face her. Her eyes widen as I step sideways, a little further in front of Prim, and bend down, elbows on my knees, to meet her eyes directly. She takes a step back, staring at me.

"I know your brother," I say, softly, finally drawing to mind why she seems so familiar. "A year under me, right?"

She nods quickly, biting her lip nervously.

"Well," I say, showing her a reassuring grin, "He wouldn't want to hear you saying things like that about him if he were out there, I'm sure."

Before she can respond, a boy her age starts walking toward us, calling out what I assume is her name. "Glade..."

It's not until he's upon us that he notices us. His eyes go straight to Prim, who must be a classmate of his. I ready myself to intervene, but all he says is, "Prim," as if it's a simple greeting.

I watch, warily giving him space to continue. He hasn't done anything wrong yet.

"Kane," Prim mumbles, still pressed up against my side. "Good afternoon."

"You know," he says slowly, as if to a startled animal. Or... as if _he_ were the startled animal. "If you ever need someone to-"

"Oh," she says, "No, no, Kane, really, I'm-"

"You know how my brother was-"

I take a breath to cut him off, but before I can, Vick materializes in front of Prim so suddenly that I can't tell where he might have come from.

"Your brother has nothing to do with it." How long had he been here? "Go eat lunch," he adds, "and let her be."

His voice is so steely, so _final_, that the other kid actually listens to him, glancing once from one of them to the other before backing off. Glade follows him, after taking a moment to realize that it had been her cue to leave a while ago.

Vick turns around, meeting Prim's eyes briefly before dropping his gaze to the ground. "I kind of..." he begins, hastily clearing his throat and staring over, "I thought he was bothering you."

I raise my eyebrows, but of course he isn't looking at _me_.

"Thank you," Prim says. Vick hesitates a moment, as if he might speak again. Instead he shrugs once in belated response before turning to leave. I eye his back as he goes.

"Come on," I say, urging Prim forward, "Go sit with him and Rory. They're only a little older than you, and I'm sure if you sit by them-"

"Rory sits with all the... Other girls..." she says, eyes downcast, "And I don't want to hear them talk to him."

"You're right. What about Vick?" I ask, looking up at his retreating figure.

"I don't think he wants me to sit with him, Gale."

I stop in my tracks. "Why would he possibly-?"

"He always sits alone, at the corner of the table. I think he wants it to be that way."

"Or maybe he's just waiting for someone to go sit there with him," I suggest, " and she just never shows up. Believe me, it's not that he doesn't like company, he's just too shy to go asking for it. He just helped you out, go sit with him."

She bites her lip, but nods. When she turns to go, I don't follow her, suddenly dreading what I'll see today. I don't know why it's different, I just don't like the feeling in my gut. I know that if a Peacekeeper finds me, I'll be dragged in there anyway, but maybe I need that kind of force.

I hear the sound of footsteps behind me. I don't turn around when they stop; I already know who it is.

"I don't want to go in, either," Kelsa says, "But what you're going to see, you have to remember, is just past coverage. It's already over. As part of her family, you should know what's happened, whether it's good or bad."

Somehow, the tone of Kelsa's voice brings out something raw in me. Something I can't conceal, something I can't blanket under a fake expression, or muffle under a lie. It feels like she isn't a living, breathing person who could possibly ruin everything I've worked so hard to make the others believe. She seems as harmless as if I were alone.

Probably because I know that she's just that. Harmless.

"I don't think I want to know," I mutter, as the last of the students walks through the doors, leaving Kelsa and I alone outside the cafeteria. The Peacekeepers won't be long in finding us.

"You're giving up?" she asks, her voice suddenly harsh. I stiffen. "If you believe she's still alive, you'll walk in there right now. Thing is, Gale, I know she's strong enough."

I look over my shoulder. She's mere steps away, her gaze catching mine. She's a constant in this mess, and I'm glad to know she's still here, hauling me through the days like a burden.

"You didn't even know her." Nevertheless, my response is just as harsh as it would be to anyone else claiming they know who she actually is.

This doesn't faze her.

"I didn't, it's true, and I wish I did," her voice has lowered, "But I do know you, Gale, and if you were so close to her, then I know she's strong enough."

There's a space of silence as I try to puzzle out what she means.

"You make the people around you want to be strong, Gale. There's something about you that just makes all the rest of us feel inferior. It makes us wish we were like you. Ever since I met you I've been wishing that somehow I could end up as strong as you are."

I had looked away long ago, I didn't want to see her face.

"She's competitive. If I know anything, it's that," she finally says, "And she's someone who'd actually do something to be stronger than you." She shoves me forward, the last few steps to the doors. "She's still alive. Go see."

I walk forward. Kelsa's still pushing me, I have no choice.

Together, we round the corner.

To see the fire falling from the sky.

* * *

The fear is numb.

The other tributes are alighted on the screen, running for their lives through the flames. When Glimmer trips and falls, the whole room gasping as a molten rock lands mere inches from her head, I barely flinch. When the small girl, Rue, is nearly hit by a flying boulder, Kelsa tensing into my side, I feel that shock of worry as if it were muted. Muffled by a louder sound.

Kelsa's right. All of this has already happened. It's a recording, it's just a rerun. I'm not frightened for any of them, because if they're worth the anxiety, they're already dead.

It's not until Katniss comes onscreen that my focus sharpens.

But the fear, the once all consuming desperation... It feels like it's beyond a thick wall of glass. I can see it, but it's not near enough to hurt me.

The flames race through the trees, catching at her heels. When she stops to breathe behind a thin rock wall of shelter, the camera skips ahead to when she starts running again.

When the fire catches hold of her leg, I hear muffled gasps of un-empathetic pain from the students nearest me. There's pressure all up my arm as Kelsa grips onto me, fear for Katniss, a girl she barely knew, tensing her muscles.

But it's all miles away.

If she's going to die on that screen, then it's already over. Too late to worry.

She rips the bottom of her pant leg off, the flames going out, revealing angry red skin. I know as well as she must have that it was a poor idea to touch the cloth, but what was she to do? How would she be able to think through that kind of panic? Her hiss of pain is magnified on the speakers, made louder by effects.

I turn away, scanning the room for Prim. She's sitting at the back of the room, behind the last few tables. She's cringing back into the boy beside her, his arm opening to lightly rest on her back as she turns her head into his shoulder, too frightened to watch.

It takes me longer than it should to recognize that it's Vick hiding her eyes from the scene.

God bless him.

They expect this to be the end, too.

But she gets up, and she keeps running. She's too stubborn to die in a fire. Not a fire. If anything, she was going down fighting.

When the fire finally edges off, she's wretching into the air, vomiting up all of the food she's so forth gotten a hold of, which isn't much to begin with.

She's still alive. That's all I need to know to breathe easy again.

The camera replays the escape of the others who happened to be on that end of the arena.

Both Eleven tributes were within the range of the fire. The cameras show Rue, who must have noticed the flames sooner, flying through the underbrush, sprinting faster than I would have imagined from such short legs. She fell, once, landing on her hands and quickly pushing herself back up, wincing. I could see the tears on her cheeks. She keeps far enough in front of the fire to stay out of most of the danger.

Thresh, who lumbers through the woods as quickly as he's able, grimaces in concentration as he pulls his shirt over his nose. He must have been creating an obvious racket, but the rumble of the animals' racing footsteps and the crackle and snap of the falling rocks was enough to cover the noise.

The camera flashes on a small, skinny boy, sitting next to a huge stock pile of food and supplies. I can only assume he's working for the careers. The cameras close in on his expression as he examines the smoke. He only looks mildly concerned. He doesn't move.

The camera then closes in on the cripple, the boy from Ten that I had nearly forgotten all about. He's out of range of the fire, but a slow stream of smoke is clouding the area where he's created a fissure between a rock and a hole he must have dug. He's managed to stuff himself inside the small gap, and it seems as if he'd be barely visible, covered in the amount of mud and rubble he's managed to scrounge up. The starved look on his face tells me that he doesn't have much time, though, if he can't get himself a decent meal. I hear the smallest of inhalations from Kelsa– but she must have known as well as I did from the beginning that the boy never stood a chance.

The screen shows the boy from One next, but only for a few moments, as he's just escaping the smoke cloud. He's fast, I decide, seeing him blow through the forest nearly as fast as Rue.

When the cameras fall on the allied Careers, running over singed earth with faces blackened by soot, coughing from the acid smoke, I grin a little. It's a short-lived sense of triumph; they reach cover quickly. The fire seems unable to reach them any longer when they cross over where the burning land meets the untouched, but the smoke is still assaulting their lungs. They're coughing, and the pleasure in that is enough for me.

"I hope they die from lung poisoning," Kelsa hisses, "like everyone who lives here."

The cameras show us briefly what the tributes do to recuperate. It seems the Capitol isn't concerned with the recovery so much as the escape.

Thresh is shown first. He uses the juices from berries he found on a bush to clear his parched throat.

When the cameras return to Katniss again, I finally start feeling the clench in my gut that I'd been expecting. Now it matters. Now it hasn't already ended, because this is the condition she's in right now, at this very instant.

The camera shows her kneeling by a lake, her hands in the water. I can't see her leg from this angle, but having watched how badly the fire had gotten to it, I'm probably as nervous of seeing the burn as she is.

When she turns her leg around, both of us suck in a breath between our teeth, perfectly in sync, even if she had done so hours before. It had been a habit of ours; it would lead to laughter, which usually distracted from whatever pain either of us was in, whether it be a bad scratch or a fracture. Part of me finds a sour affection for the memory.

She lifts her leg onto a rock, dipping it into the water gently.

The words, 'Girl on Fire' float at the bottom of the screen, flames writhing up over each letter. I scowl at the joke.

Rue's away from the fire now, in the tops of a huge, thin tree, breathing the safer air and pressing leaves over her feet.

They show the boy from One again, but only for a moment. He's found a puddle of a lake, too, and is sticking his feet in the water, washing off the soot from his skin, still breathing heavy.

They don't show the boys from Ten or Three again.

I let out a long breath. The fire's gone, and Katniss is still out there.

I look over my shoulder, searching out my brothers. Prim, too-

Prim and Vick are still sitting together. I can see the redness around Prim's eyes from here as she hastily wipes away tears with her shirt. Vick offers her a napkin, and she takes it, smiling weakly as she says something I don't catch. Vick shakes his head at her, looking down and away, lifting a shoulder. Rory is siting a few kids away in the same row, beside two girls. The girls are talking to him adamantly as he smiles at them, ignoring the girl on his other side, who he brashly nudges with every gesture he makes.

At least one of my brothers is a gentleman.

"Gale, look-" I turn at the sound of Kelsa's shaky voice.

The word 'LIVE' is glowing in the corner of the screen. I grit my teeth.

Katniss is already half-way up a tree by the time the cameras locate the action. They follow her up to the highest branches, the tree barely giving at all beneath her tiny frame, until she reaches the highest point she should risk. She's wincing with pain that I can only imagine from the direct contact with tree-bark after the burns her hands have suffered.

Once Katniss stops climbing, the camera view changes to just below the tree in time to catch the six Careers.

I shudder, feeling the familiar roil in my stomach and sweat at my neck. She could die, right here.

This could be it.

I swallow.

_It won't be._

A split-screen shows Katniss' face, eyes wide in nervousness; and Cato's face, a snarl on his lips and a shine in his eye.

All of the sudden, though, Katniss' expression changes.

She's...

She's _smiling_. "How's everything with you?" she calls down to them, in a tone I could stretch to call _casual, _as if they were friends. The Careers look almost as baffled as I am. Kelsa smiles a little at my side.

"Well enough," says Cato, recovering quickly, "Yourself?"

"It's been a little warm for my taste," she says. Even though I'm worried sick, this wrings something of a laugh from me, one that's echoed by the other students sitting nearest my table. "The air's better up here," she continues, "Why don't you come on up?"

I know she's going for sponsors, I know it's for her survival, but I don't want her going as far as _taunting_ them. She's putting herself in too much immediate danger-

"Think I will," comes the response, gruff and annoyed.

"Here, take this Cato-" The girl from One says, and my eyes lock on the weapon she holds in her hands.

_This can either save her later, or kill her now._

"If she gets her hands on that, she'll win," I say aloud to Kelsa, hoping that verbalizing it will make it true. "If she has a bow and arrows, no one else stands a chance."

"If only she can get them..." Kelsa starts to say, but I interrupt her.

"She will."

"No," Cato says. I chuckle at his idiocy. _Just wait, _I think, _I'm willing to bet one of those arrows will be your ticket to your district in a body bag._ "I'll do better with my sword."

Katniss climbs again, her hands gripping at invisible holds, her feet hoisting her body weight up higher and higher with ease until she's nearly a hundred yards up.

_That's my little squirrel._

"Wow..." Kelsa murmurs. "Isn't that a little dangerous?"

"She's lighter than a feather," I say, "It's a curse in some situations, but a blessing in others."

The cameras move down to Cato again, just in time to catch him fall. I snort. "Strength is the same way," I add.

And then Glimmer raises the bow, aiming it. My heart doesn't have time to stop before the arrow is flying-

-and lodging itself far above Kaniss' head. I let out the breath that I hadn't noticed I'd held. She climbs higher to retrieve it, waving it around in the air.

I roll my eyes, grinning weakly.

The Careers are frustrated now.

"Oh, let her stay up there. It's not like she's going anywhere. We'll deal with her in the morning," Peeta says. I try to decide if he's giving her time, or if he really _is_ just waiting to kill her. I can't decide if Peeta's on her side or not– either way, he's been inciting a rage in me like fire since the beginning.

* * *

The showing ends, and the screen goes blank.

I slouch rather than straighten, realizing my backbone had been locked throughout the entire lunch period, despite my attempt at relaxing.

Kelsa turns to me.

"She's braver than I imagined," she says, pushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "I could...I could never do that."

"Well, neither could I. I was never one to climb trees." The tree climbing was always Katniss' job. I weighed too much for the thinner, taller trees such as the one she was likely still in at this very moment.

I notice the food on my plate, realizing that I haven't touched it. I see Kelsa's plate, too, and notice that not only has it not been touched, but there was barely anything there to begin with. I look at Kelsa herself, and notice how unbelievably thin she's getting. She catches me looking at her.

"What?" she asks, still making no move to eat. I take small bites of the meat I've brought with me, swallowing quickly.

"Have you been eating?" I ask, though I haven't been eating much either. I'm keeping the food for the others, to build their strength. They need to be just as well fed as they're used to being if they want to last through the rest of the Games.

"Oh," she says, a hand moving over her stomach. Where her stomach should be, anyway. "It's always harder to eat when the Games come on," she whispers, dark eyes becoming dull, "I can never get anything down."

_Katniss was the same way._

I almost say it. I don't.

"You have to eat," I say, reaching out a hand to nudge her tray toward her. "I'm still eating, if for no other reason than to encourage my mother that I'm holding out."

She looks at me, hesitating, before finally reaching out for a bit of food. She eats it, and within seconds, she's clearing her plate. I know what it's like to forget hunger after feeling it for so long.

The bell rings. I get to my feet, stretching.

"Thank you," she says, quietly.

"It's not a problem, you we're hungry," I say. "You only needed to be reminded."

"No," she says as I start to leave. "not about the food." I turn back to look at her. "Thank you for letting me know that I'm not the only one."

I nod, "You only needed to be reminded," I repeat, in the same tone.

_And maybe I do, too._

* * *

When I get home, sporting two squirrels and two rabbits, both families pretend they're happy with my catch. I try to pretend I believe them. We've all gathered at my home this time, filling the small area to the bursting. I drop the food on a side table and begin cleaning it.

Hazelle already has the TV on.

The Games are slow after the fire, the Tributes taking time to stop hunting for each other and rest. There isn't much activity at the moment.

Still, the arena is never entirely quiet. The cameras find the large man by the name of Thresh breaking out through the trees in front of the fiery haired girl who's name I hadn't bothered to learn. She gets one glance at him before she's sprinting away in the opposite direction. Thresh follows, grimacing with exertion; but he's so much heavier than the girl, and obviously got the worst of the smoke.

It doesn't take long for Thresh to give up.

The arena is quiet.

That is, until Katniss decides to make it loud.

* * *

**Well, finally, after half a year (longer?) I'm back. I'll try my hardest, guys, to update more often.**

**Thank you so much, in the most serious sense of gratitude. I wish I could have given you a more exciting chapter. The next holds promise. :)**

**Love you guys,**

**-C**


End file.
